Wolf Game
by saxgirl42
Summary: ON HOLD. Lord Voldemort has, for the moment, put aside his pursuit of the Boy Who Lived, and instead has focused his attention on a more wolfish quarry... [alternate HBP sixth year] rated T for later chapters
1. Snowballs

**_Author's Note: _**Hi, people!

Just a couple quick warnings before you lose yourself in the world of Hogwarts:

1. This first chapter was really hard for me to write (it's mostly an intro piece, and I'm more of a drama and action writer, myself), so if you don't like it, _please_ just be patient! I promise I'll upload the next chapter really soon if I get some good feedback, and that has more action in it. (and yes, I know, because I've already written it.)

2. This is an alternate sixth year, so I had to make up an OC (normally I _despise_ OC's) as the new DADA teacher. I tried not to make her a Mary-Sue, but if she seems to be one, I promise there's a REASON that will be revealed in a couple chapters. Plus, she's not a major character, people. You can deal with it.

3. I am one of those girls who likes to torture the characters I love, so Lupin-lovers, be prepared. That is all I will say about that.

Enjoy and comment!

**_Disclaimer:_** I do not own anything that has to do with "Harry Potter". All the nice little wizards (and the not-so-nice ones) belong to J.K. Rowling.

**1. Snowballs**

The first snowfall of Harry Potter's sixth year at Hogwarts was welcomed with great excitement by the student body; it was only ten o'clock on a Saturday morning, but a good part of the school was already out playing in the soft white fluff. Older students from each house could be seen teaching the younger kids how to skate on the frozen lake, and a few groups of boys were creating snowpeople, some of which clearly depicted Hogwarts professors (the most common being a tall snowman with a rather large, hooked nose; this particular creation always seemed to have its head cut off by the time it was done, to the great amusement of the ones who had built it.)

Harry himself was having a brutal snowball fight with Ron Weasley, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, and Neville Longbottom while Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley watched from under a nearby tree. Hermione had taught them how to bewitch the snowballs so that they wouldn't stop flying through the air until they hit their target, and now the air around them was filled with snowballs going after anything that moved.

At one point, a snowball that Neville had bewitched went astray and flew too far from the fight. Looking for a target, it went speeding toward a pretty young woman with dark curls who was walking along one of the paths toward the school, casually reading a book: Professor Vedette Thoreau, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

Poor Neville was about to call out to her, but there was no need. Thoreau simply lifted her free hand and caught the flying missile mere inches from the side of her head, crushing it and letting it drop to the ground behind her as she continued on her way.

The boys gaped; she hadn't even looked up from her book.

"Bloody hell! Did you _see_ that?" Ron blurted, wide-eyed. Harry was staring, as well, and barely even flinched when a snowball pelted him in the back of the head.

"Yeah..." he said dully, blinking at the new professor's retreating back as she disappeared into the school.

From the very moment she had been introduced at the welcoming feast by a beaming Dumbledore, Harry had known there was something... _different_ about Professor Thoreau. Maybe it was the way she spoke, with a fairly noticable French accent that betrayed her home country. Or maybe it was how she held herself with such graceful poise, even though she didn't appear to be any older than twenty, if that. Her striking violet eyes held wisdom far beyond her said age, and Harry wasn't sure if he quite trusted her.

Even so, the demonstration of her incredible falcon-shaped Patronus charm on the second day of class was enough to win the respect of the entire class, and ultimately the whole student body as they each got a chance to witness her talent.

But Harry still couldn't trust her; she was too mysterious, and this newest incident didn't help her in his eyes. _No one_ had reflexes that fast; at least, no one normal.

"Harry?"

Harry blinked and saw Hermione frowning at him. The rest of their group was slowly trouping across the grounds toward the castle, still talking excitedly about Thoreau's extraordinary catch.

"Right. Coming," he said, purposefully ignoring the inquisitive look Hermione was giving him. "It's got to be almost lunch, right? I'm starved."

"Yes, I think that's why everyone is heading inside. Harry, are you all right?" Hermione asked. Harry forced a smile, shoving all thoughts of Professor Thoreau to the back of his mind.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" he said casually, starting to walk toward the castle doors.

"Because you were just staring after Professor Thoreau with this really strange look on your face. It was as if you saw a ghost," she said, looking rather pale herself. Harry dropped his act, knowing fully well that it wouldn't fool Hermione.

"I just get a bad feeling from her, that's all. I'm sure it's nothing, Hermione. Don't worry about it," he said.

"I can't not worry about it. I've had the same feeling. It's strange, but it feels like she's hiding something from us, and I can't tell if it's a harmless secret or something we should be trying to figure out," she said, lowering her voice now that they were back inside and surrounded by the milling crowds of students pushing their way into the Great Hall.

"Well, whatever it is, it's halfway through the school-year and she hasn't tried to kill me yet, so she can't be _all_ bad," Harry joked lightly, trying to seem okay with the situation so that Hermione would let it go. She did (albeit reluctantly), and within the next minute they were taking their seats at the Gryffindor table beside Ron, stripping off their soaked jackets and gloves.

"What a first snow!" Ginny exclaimed, grinning broadly from across the table.

"Yeah, and what a snowball fight!" Dean said excitedly, still brushing snow from his dark hair.

"It's weird," Ron mused, glancing up at the Head Table as the teachers began to take their seats, "but I am really tempted to throw this fork at Professor Thoreau and see if she can catch it." Hermione didn't even blink as she quietly removed all the silverware from Ron's place setting, only half-smiling when he added, "I wasn't serious!"

Harry grinned and soon found himself lost in the mounds of steaming food that appeared on the platters before them, completely forgetting about his worries amidst the happy chatter of his friends.

-----

The next week passed quickly, the teachers loading their students with homework and oftentimes running their classes past the dismissal.

"Maybe it's the full moon or something," Ron grumbled on Thursday night as he scratched another line off of his History of Magic essay. "What else could explain all this stupid work?"

"If you had done your Astronomy, Ronald, you would know that the full moon was last Thursday," Hermione said absently, her nose buried in a dusty old tome that - judging by the foreign symbols on the front cover - she was studying for her Runes class.

"Oh, shut it, Hermione. Just because _you _enjoy being up from dawn till dusk doing schoolwork doesn't mean the rest of us do," Ron muttered darkly. Hermione sniffed but didn't reply, and Harry could only be glad. He sighed and pushed the Transfiguration homework he had been attempting to concentrate on away from him, stretching and checking the clock above the fire.

The three of them were among the last Gryffindors still in the commonroom at this late hour, as was usually the case. It was half past eleven, and only two giggling third-year girls remained. Harry wondered what they could possibly be so excited about, but soon he realized what they were discussing.

"Hogsmeade!" he said suddenly, snapping his Transfiguration textbook shut. Ron jumped, cursing as he blotched ink on his essay for the umpteenth time that night. Hermione threw him a disapproving look, but turned to Harry, choosing not to start a fight.

"What about it?" she asked.

"Our second visit is on Saturday! I completely forgot until now," he said. Ron grinned.

"Great! Now at least we have something to look forward to to get us through tomorrow," he said excitedly, rolling up his History of Magic essay without another glance.

"Ron, that isn't nearly as long as Professor Binns said it should be!" Hermione said, obviously dismayed at him giving it up so soon. Ron made a face.

"Well, that's about all I have to say about those ruddy giant wars he was babbling about," he retorted. Hermione sighed.

"He was talking about the Wizards' Council of 1634 today. Our assignment was to write a paper on how it affected wizarding life today," she said. Ron paled visibly, and Hermione sighed again, closing her Runes book with finality. "Let me see it."

Ron handed it over gratefully, and the night continued with Hermione rewriting the majority of his paper and Harry reluctantly trying his hand at Transfiguration again.

-----

The next afternoon was Potions, but no one could concentrate on the sleeping draught they were supposed to be brewing, even with Snape breathing down their necks.

"You seem to be even duller today than you usually are, Potter," the Potions master said coolly when Harry dropped his slimy frog's tongue for the fourth time. "And here I thought you couldn't get any lower." Harry felt his face get red as he bent to grab the tongue out from under the desk, but decided that a snide comeback wasn't worth spending a Hogsmeade day in detention with Snape. Besides, there were only five minutes left in class; soon he would be free to go.

"Oh, and Potter," Snape added suddenly, having been about to turn away.

"What?" Harry snapped a bit too nastily, unable to restrain himself.

"Temper. That's five points, I think," Snape said, smiling slightly. "The Headmaster wishes to speak with you once this period is done."

"Fine."

Luckily, the period ended soon. Harry, still seething, grabbed up his bag and strode out before Snape could make any more remarks; Ron flashed him a questioning look, but Harry just shook his head slightly and waved before making his way up to the gargoyle.

Once there, Harry realized that he had no idea what the password was. He was about to rattle off as many wizarding candies as he could think of when the gargoyle suddenly leapt aside, revealing the winding staircase behind it. Harry blinked.

"Er... thanks," he said to the gargoyle unsurely, and was about to step onto the stairs when he heard someone else coming down in a great hurry. He jumped out of the way just as Professor McGonagall emerged from the stairwell, looking rather flustered.

"Oh, Potter, good, good! The Headmaster will see you now," she said hastily, ushering him onto the staircase. Harry couldn't really refuse, and just as he was about to turn and ask her if she was all right, the stairway began rotating, carrying him up to Dumbledore's office. The last thing he saw was McGonagall shaking her head and pinching the bridge of her nose as she walked away, looking distressed.

Suddenly wary, Harry knocked quietly on the Headmaster's door.

"You may come in, Harry," came the reply from inside, and Harry entered silently, nodding respectfully to Fawkes, who sang a low note in return.

Dumbledore was sitting behind the desk, his hands folded before him, looking resplendent in dark violet robes. He had a smile on his face, but it did not reach his eyes as he gestured for Harry to sit in the chair before him.

"Harry. I'm sure you are wondering why I wanted to see you today," he began.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied quietly, seating himself on the edge of the provided chair. Dumbledore chuckled a bit at the boy's nervousness.

"You needn't worry; you aren't in trouble." Harry relaxed back into the chair with an obvious effort, but Dumbledore seemed satisfied as he continued: "Professor Snape has gotten new information for us about Lord Voldemort and his plans. I have already informed Professor McGonagall of the changes, and now I think it's time for you to know." Harry nodded but said nothing, regarding the Headmaster carefully. Dumbledore paused and took a deep breath, as though steeling himself for something extremely difficult.

"Lord Voldemort has - for the moment - put aside his quest to kill you, Harry," he said. Harry's eyes widened.

"But why -"

Dumbledore held up a hand to stem any questions.

"Not now. Please allow me to finish." Here he paused again to make sure Harry wouldn't interrupt, then nodded in satisfaction. "Thank you. Like I said, Voldemort is no longer trying to kill you. Instead, according to the two Death Eaters who spoke with Professor Snape the day before yesterday, he has turned his attention to gaining more followers. To do this, he must first gain trust among the species who are naturally enemies of wizards. These include - as you already know - the dementors, giants, and most werewolves and vampires.

"Now Harry, the Order has two emissaries who speak with those on the border - one for the werewolves and one for the vampires. Professor Snape has just informed me that Voldemort has his eye out for these two members of the Order, one of which is Remus Lupin."

"So... is Lupin in danger?" Harry asked, frowning. Dumbledore sighed.

"Yes, and no. Remus has not spoken with any werewolves for quite some time now, so Voldemort may not know he is the one attempting to persuade them to our cause. I'm sure he has suspicions, but no solid proof as of yet," the Headmaster said with a tight smile. Harry bit his lip thoughtfully, sitting forward in his chair again. So if Voldemort was after Lupin... then wouldn't he be after the vampire emissary, as well?

"And the one speaking with the vampires? Who is he?" he asked finally. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled over his half-moon glasses.

"That is confidential information. I'm afraid I can't disclose their name, even to you. Not yet," he added mischeviously, the smile finally back on his bearded face. Harry's brow furrowed, but he did not argue.

"Now," Dumbledore said, rising to his feet gracefully," I believe it is almost time for dinner, and we are going to be late." Harry rose as well, still brimming with questions that he instead had to swallow.

Just as he was about to exit the office, however, Dumbledore called to him.

"Oh, and one more thing." Harry paused, hand poised to push the door open, and turned to face the Headmaster again. "Don't worry too much. If anything happens, you will be one of the first to know." Harry nodded, bid goodnight to Dumbledore, and hurried down to the Great Hall.

As he ate his dinner, his mind reeled with this new information. He had a feeling he would be thinking about it too much to sleep very well tonight, so out of consideration for his friends, he decided not to tell them; at least, not yet.

After all, they had the whole next day together, in Hogsmeade.

**_Author's Note: _**Hope that wasn't too painful for you guys. If you leave nice comments, I'll update really fast! (Oh, and please. No flames. There's really no need.)

Thanks for reading!


	2. Hogsmeade

**_Author's Note: _**Hello, hello, and welcome to the second chapter! Just a couple things before you start reading:

1. Please refer to previous chapter, and note on Mary-Sues.

2. Some mild violence ahead. (yay)

3. Thanks for all the nice comments! I replied to them at the bottom, so look down there if you're interested.

Enjoy and comment!

_**Disclaimer: **_I do not own anything that has to do with "Harry Potter". All the nice little wizards (and not-so-nice ones) belong to J.K. Rowling.

**2. Hogsmeade**

"So Dumbledore actually _told_ you that Voldemort is after Lupin?" Hermione hissed as she, Harry, and Ron made their way into the Three Broomsticks. Harry waited until they passed a group of giggling Hufflepuff fourth-years before answering in hushed tones.

"Well, not exactly, but it sure sounded like that was the general idea," he said. Ron frowned, settling himself next to Harry at a table in the corner so they could be alone while Hermione fetched three Butterbeers. They greatly needed the warming up; their second Hogsmeade visit of the school year had turned out to be a chilly one, and many students were taking refuge in the shops and pubs to get out of the cold December air.

"But why? I mean, it doesn't really make sense when you think about it. You-Know-Who's all for getting to you, right? So how does getting Lupin help him get you?" Ron wondered. Harry shrugged, accepting the steaming mug proferred to him by Hermione gratefully and taking a large swig.

"Maybe that's not his goal this time. Dumbledore mentioned that Voldemort was kind of worried about Lupin gaining more supporters than him in the werewolf community," Harry said. Hermione bit her lip thoughtfully.

"So maybe Voldemort - oh, _do_ grow up, Ron - just wants Lupin out of the picture," she said. Harry nodded, holding his mug of butterbeer securely between his frozen hands. Ron opened his mouth as though to add a comment, but cut off as something near the door caught his eye.

"Ron?" Hermione said, before glancing over her shoulder to see what it was he was staring at.

"Speak of the devil," Ron mumbled, still watching the door intently, and Harry looked, too. Three heavily cloaked figures had just entered the Three Broomsticks, looking very out of place among the milling crowds of Hogwarts students. It wasn't, however, until the newcomers lowered their hoods that they had caught Ron's attention: the shortest was a woman with bubble-gum pink hair, the tallest was a black man with a gold hoop dangling in one ear, and the last was a tired-looking man with sandy hair.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione watched as Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Remus Lupin looked around for somewhere to sit. Ron glanced at Harry and Hermione, and they both nodded. He sat up tall in his chair and waved a hand in the air frantically.

"OI! TONKS!" he called. All three members of the Order looked their way, and bright grins graced all of their faces as they made their way over.

"Wotcher, guys, how's it going?" Tonks asked, stealing a chair from a nearby table without so much as glancing at the other occupents and settling herself next to Hermione. Kingsley and Lupin both politely drew up their own chairs out of thin air and sat beside Harry.

"How are things up at Hogwarts?" Lupin asked, still smiling at them all. Harry exchanged quick glances with Ron and Hermione, who both nodded imperceptively; they would mention nothing of Voldemort's plans concerning Lupin.

"Everything's fine. Snape's being his usual cheery self, Quidditch is going great... there's really nothing to report," Harry said. Tonks snorted at the Snape comment and made the whole table laugh as she did a flawless Snape-impression, hook-nose and all.

"How's Defense Against the Dark Arts this year?" Lupin asked, his eyes twinkling merrily.

"Professor Thoreau is brilliant! She's - I mean, of course no better than you - but she's still really cool," Ron said hurriedly. He paused, surveying each of the adults and taking in their amused expressions. "What?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just that Vedette is a dear friend to us," Lupin said, smiling mischeviously.

"And an excellent Auror," Kingsley added. Harry almost spit out his butterbeer.

"Wait - you mean - is she in the... er... you-know-what?" he stammered. Tonks grinned at him and winked.

"If you mean what I think you mean, then yes. I'm surprised you didn't know that. Did you not know she was an Auror, either?"

"No, she never mentioned anything like that in class," Hermione answered. Lupin and Tonks exchanged a significant glance, but said nothing. Harry caught it, though, and glared at the both of them.

"What else aren't you telling us?" he demanded. Lupin sighed and rubbed his chin absently.

"Well, if she didn't mention she was an Auror, then she probably also neglected to mention other… _details_," he said. Harry opened his mouth to ask, but Kingsley interrupted.

"Do you really think Vedette would want us to tell her students?" he asked. Lupin shrugged.

"Do you really think she's going to keep it secret all year?"

"_You _were going to." Lupin hesitated, but then sighed.

"I guess you're right. Nevermind."

"Hey," Ron protested, "you can't just do that! Now you've got us all excited! C'mon, just say it, Professor Lupin." Lupin held up a finger to stop the stem of complaints that were about to come from Harry and Hermione, as well.

"First of all, you can start calling me Remus, seeing as I'm not your professor anymore." He held up another finger. "Secondly, it's not my place to tell you someone else's secrets. If Vedette wants you to know, she'll tell you on her own."

"But you can trust us!"

"We won't tell anyone else!"

"We'll be quiet!"

Lupin sighed and glanced at his partners. Kingsley was shaking his head with a slight smile, and Tonks was chuckling to herself.

"You got yourself into this, Remus. Get yourself out," Kingsley said sagely. Tonks shrugged.

"I say tell 'em. As long as they swear never to repeat it to anyone, what harm can it do? Honestly - what more trustworthy kids could you find?" she asked. Said "kids" nodded vigorously, looking hopefully to Lupin. The werewolf raised an eyebrow at them incredulously, but before he could say anything a large crash sounded from right outside the Three Broomsticks. The adults leapt to their feet instantly, wands out and ready for anything. As Tonks and Kingsley sped for the door, easily parting the startled sea of students before them, Lupin hung back by Harry, Ron, and Hermione for a second.

"Stay here. No matter what you hear, see, or think, _stay put_. Especially you, Harry," he added. Then he turned away, calling over the crowds of students, "HAGRID!"

Harry was amazed that he hadn't noticed the gamekeeper before; Hagrid's bulk usually stood out in any public place. The giant man made his way through the students with a bit more difficulty than the two Aurors before, but was at their table in a moment.

"Don' worry, Remus, I'll stay with 'em. You can go," he growled, his beetle-like eyes scanning the pub for any danger.

"Thanks," Lupin said, then he, too, was gone out the door.

"Hagrid, what's going on?" Hermione squeaked, trying in vain to see through the crowd of worried students into the street. Harry and Ron were standing on their chairs, but the visibililty wasn't much better.

"Well, didn' yeh hear it? Sounds like there's bin an attack out there! But I don' think it was a wizard, no, too outta control. This isn' Death Eater work, neither." Hagrid was mumbling, almost as though talking to himself, as he strained to see outside, too.

Harry just saw the red sparks of stunning spells above the milling heads in the pub, and then had to blink; he had sworn he had seen something dark and furry fly past the window, but he couldn't be sure. If only he could get closer...

"Away from the windows!" a sharp voice commanded; Harry looked toward the door and saw Professor McGonagall ushering the hordes of students toward the back of the pub, so that there was a good five feet or so between a student and the nearest front window. This gave Harry a better view, and he now saw that more members of the Order had joined the fight. Tonks and Kingsley were battling furiously with something off to the right of the Three Broomsticks that Harry couldn't see. Mad-Eye Moody had appeared from somewhere and he and Lupin were throwing spell after spell at another opponent that had just run down an alley. A witch who looked much too young to be fighting had also joined the fray, her back turned to the Three Broomsticks. Something about those shiny dark curls was familiar to Harry, but she was too far away to tell and his attention was instead caught by the creature that leapt down at her. It seemed to come from nowhere, but Harry finally decided it must have been the roof. He hadn't been hallucinating, then; the thing was dark and hairy, and vaguely resembled a man, but looked much more ferocious. He thought the witch hadn't seen the thing and tensed, prepared to watch her be attacked, but he heard her yell, "_AVADA KEDAVRA!_" from all the way inside, and then she merely stepped out of the way to let the creature fall, utterly lifeless, to the ground at her feet. Then she turned and Harry realized why she was so familiar.

"Bloody hell... is that Professor Thoreau?" Ron whimpered from behind him, evidently having just watched the same thing. Harry only nodded wordlessly.

"About time we got another competent Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, eh?" Hermione whispered nervously in his ear, having climbed up on her own chair now. Harry nodded again.

"What _was _that?" Ron asked, meaning the now-dead creature.

"Feral." Hagrid had answered; he was staring at the scene outside, obviously horrified.

"What?" Harry asked. Hagrid gulped.

"A regressive. A terrible kinda werewolf. Half-transformed all their life. Think like a wolf an' a human at the same time. Ruddy dangerous things. You-Know-Who musta got 'em on 'is side," he explained. Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged worried looks; could they be here to get Lupin?

Another scream from outside and gasps from within brought their attention back to the battle. Tonks was down for the count, bleeding and apparently knocked out, and Kingsley was battling over her body to protect her from another regressive bearing down on him. Lupin, apparently, saw his predicament and raced over, to the surprised exclamations of some of the students in the Three Broomsticks watching.

"Is that Professor Lupin?" Dean Thomas asked.

"Yeah, what's he doing here?" That was Seamus Finnigan.

"Who cares, he's helping out there, isn't he?" snapped Lavender Brown.

"I hope he doesn't get hurt," said Parvati Patil, sounding genuinely worried.

The comments were cut off suddenly by a chorus of gasps and screams; the regressive had thrown Kingsley across the street, where the Auror had fallen and not moved. As soon as it had removed him, it growled and charged Lupin, who shot spells at it furiously, still standing protectively over Tonks. The spells merely bounced off the regressive, and it raked long claws across Lupin's face, then grabbed the stunned wizard by the neck and lifted him clear off the ground. Ex-students of his cried out in protest and horror at this; Hermione whimpered and buried her face in Harry's shoulder. He gripped her hand in an effort to comfort both her and himself, but found he couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene before him.

The regressive appeared to be taunting Lupin, because its maliciously grinning lips were moving around the inhuman canines. Lupin wasn't interested, though, because he glared and retorted immediately, his face contorted with more fury than Harry had ever seen on him before; the effect was enhanced tremendously by the four deep claw marks bleeding profusely down his face.

This took only a minute; Professor McGonagall whipped her wand out and exited the Three Broomsticks just as the regressive growled one last comment, then bared his teeth at Lupin and threw him bodily across the street. More screams and cries echoed through the pub as Lupin collided with the brick wall, slid to the bottom and didn't move.

"Oh Merlin..." Ron muttered as Hagrid uttered many inappropriate oaths and curses directed at the regressive. Professor McGonagall was shrieking something at the regressive, who merely grinned at her malignantly and raced off. The students all cried out and ran to the windows to see if it had really gone.

Apparently it had, as Professor McGonagall reentered the pub.

"Attention, I want everyone back up to the castle immediately! You will all follow Hagrid. Do not lag behind, do not stray from the group, and do not wait for your friends if they are not here; they will be following momentarily," she ordered. With that, she gave a nod to Hagrid, and left once more. Hagrid took control, then.

"Follow close, then! Yeh heard the Professor! C'mon, follow me!" he barked over the worried babbling. As the rattled students began to follow orders, Harry jumped off of his stool, pulling Hermione carefully down beside him. Ron followed suit, looking rather pale.

"Come on," Harry muttered. "We should go see if Lupin is all right." Hermione, who looked like she was barely suppressing tears, hesitated.

"Harry, don't you think we should just go back up to Hogwarts with Hagrid? I mean, what if another one of those... you know... another _regressive_ comes?" she whispered. Harry shook his head.

"No, I need to make sure that Lupin and Tonks and Kingsley are all right before I go anywhere," he said bluntly. Ron nodded wordlessly, and Hermione gulped, but followed as they sneaked past the crowds of hurriedly retreating students.

Magicked stretchers were already bearing the limp forms of their three friends. Professor McGonagall was speaking in hushed, worried tones with Moody and Thoreau, the latter of whom was clutching a cloth stained with what looked like black ink to her left hand.

"Erm, Professor, we're not alone anymore," Moody growled. Professor McGonagall spun and placed a hand on her breast in relief.

"Oh, good, Potter. I thought you might be another... well..." She cleared her throat, regaining her composure. "May I help you with something?"

"We just wanted to make sure that everyone was all right," Harry said. Professor McGonagall smiled humorlessly.

"Cuts and bruises, and perhaps a couple concussions in Remus and Kingsley's cases. Nothing Madam Pomfrey can't handle in a snap. Now please, I know you know all about the Order and you're close with the victims, but _please_ go up to the castle. Professor Thoreau can escort you, I'm sure," she said. Thoreau started a bit at her name, but she recovered quickly.

"Of course," she said calmly, smiling much more warmly than Professor McGonagall as she walked toward the trio. "Come along, you." She grasped Ron and Harry by the arms and steered them gently away from the injured fighters, Hermione trailing morosely behind. Ron - perhaps only because he fancied Thoreau - allowed himself to go quietly, but Harry kept stealing glances back.

"Harry." Harry jumped and turned to face Thoreau. She fixed him with her captivating amethyst gaze and patted him on the shoulder. "They'll be fine, I promise. Now let's get you guys back up to the castle."

**_Author's Note: _**Ferals will be coming up more in this story, so I have to do a quick disclaimer: the creation of the idea for a "regressive werewolf" belongs to my good friend, but the actual character belongs to me. Just though you should know! (It's funny, because the character started out as a minor figment of our combined imaginations, and I ended up liking him so much I put him in here. Hee hee - funny how that works, isn't it?) Please comment!

**_Replies: _**

DecemberDrops: I agree with you on the Mary-Sue thing; I usually abandon stories as soon as I see the initials "OC." But thanks for giving mine a chance!

skygodess27: Thanks for the nice review; I'll keep the idea of changing POV's in mind. It's a good thought!

Darth Taegous: Thank you for the comment! I hope this chapter was worth waiting for!


	3. Questions

**_Author's Note: _**Yay! Updated! Thanks again for all the nice comments - really, they make my day!

Umm... not much to say here that I haven't said before, so just read, enjoy, and comment!

**_Disclaimer: _**I do not own anything that has to do with Harry Potter. All the nice little wizards (and the not-so-nice ones) belong to J.K. Rowling. I do, however, own Vedette Thoreau and my feral. (I don't think you know his name yet, so I won't give it away.)**  
**

**3. Questions**

The mood around Hogwarts was tense in the days following the regressive attack. Students and teachers alike could be seen whispering anxiously with eachother between and even during classes. These hushed discussions covered everything from the behavior of ferals to Thoreau's use of an Unforgivable Curse against one. The latter of these subjects came up the Tuesday after the Hogsmeade visit in Harry's Defense Against the Dark Arts class; it was posed bravely by Hermione near the end of class.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" Thoreau said, acknowledging Hermione's frantically waving hand just as she was packing up for the day.

"I'm sorry, Professor, but I have a question about the regressive incident that took place in Hogsmeade last Saturday," Hermione said, sounding very much like a reporter. The class, who had been murmuring amongst themselves casually after the conclusion of the lesson, became immediately quiet; everyone wanted to hear information about the attack, especially from one who had been physically involved.

"Ask away," Thoreau said breezily, leaning forward against her desk with a smile.

"Well, I couldn't help but notice that you used an Unforgivable Curse to kill one of the regressives. Sorry, but... aren't those illegal for _everyone_?" Hermione asked. Thoreau nodded solemnly, her smile faltering slightly.

"Well, you're partially right." She took a deep breath and walked around to the front of the desk, clasping her hands before her. "The Unforgivables are still illegal to the majority of the wizarding population. _However_, considering the circumstances - which I assume you all know - the Ministry has granted Aurors the ability to use the Unforgivables as needed."

"Wait, Professor." Dean Thomas raised his hand as he spoke, his brow furrowed in confusion. "That would have to make you an Auror. _Are_ you one?"

"Yes, Mr. Thomas, I am." A few admiring "oh"s rippled through the classroom.

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?" Harry asked. Thoreau shrugged.

"I don't know. I never thought it was really something you needed to know. I wasn't planning on keeping it secret from you, because I knew it would slip out at some point, but I didn't think it mattered all that much," she replied thoughtfully. There was a moment's silence after this, and she smiled at her class. "Any more questions, either about the lesson today or the attack?" Eight hands rose, but the question-and-answer session was cut off abruptly by the bell. Thoreau sighed. "We'll continue this next lesson. Don't forget to read chapter 7 of _Generating Jinxes_!"

-----

That night, Hermione shut herself into her dorm with a pile of books and refused to come out. Harry and Ron were worried by this; usually it only happened when exams were approaching, but those weren't for a couple months.

"Maybe she's finally cracked," Ron ventured as the two boys played wizard's chess beside the fire in the commonroom. "I mean, she started acting all weird after the attack on Saturday, right? Maybe something that happened that day got to her, and she's trying to figure out how to fix it."

"I dunno," Harry muttered, letting his gaze turn to the girl's dorm. "You're right that she seemed... rattled, but I'm not sure she's insane yet." Ron shrugged, moving his knight with a slight prod from the tip of his quill.

"If you ask me, she's been insane ever since we first met her. I just said that she's officially cracked under the pressure of so _much _insanity."

Harry heaved a sigh as one of his pawns was cut down by Ron's knight.

"Maybe we should check on her," he said. Ron shook his head.

"We can't get up there, remember? Besides, she'd probably just chuck one of her books at us and tell us to scram," he said, poking the back of his left bishop and ultimately killing another of Harry's poor pawns.

"I would do no such thing!"

The boys jumped and looked up; Hermione was standing at the bottom of the stairs leading from the girls' dormitories, a single heavy tome clutched to her chest, glaring icily at them.

"Hermione!" Ron said. "What've you been doing all night? You've been in your room for hours!"

"For your information, Ronald, I have been researching something very important. I thought I was going to share it with you two idiots, but now I'm not so sure," she said haughtily. Harry raised his eyebrows.

"Researching? Researching what?" Hermione looked around the commonroom, as though searching for spies. Apparently seeing none, she hurried over to where they were sitting and knelt beside them, showing them the book in her arms.

"_All The Wizened Witch or Wizard Needs to Know on Vampires_? What are you researching vampires for?" Ron wondered, reading the title outloud. Hermione grabbed the book back to her breast.

"Shush, Ron! Don't say it too loud," she scolded. Harry frowned.

"But, really, Hermione. Why vampires?" he whispered. Hermione glanced around again, then took in a deep breath.

"Because... I think Professor Thoreau might be one."

Silence.

Ron blinked. "You're serious?"

"Of course I am! Haven't you noticed the signs?"

"Signs?" Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Let's see. How about the fact that she seems to be perfect at just about everything, almost as though she's had hundreds of years of experience? Or how she never seems to eat at any food? Or the fact that the bandage she had on her hand on Saturday was stained with _black_ blood, and not red?" She rattled these off rather quickly, and Ron and Harry exchanged glances; neither of them had noticed any of the things Hermione had just pointed out until now, even though Harry had once had his own suspicions.

"But Hermione," Harry said quietly, "couldn't those all be coincidences?" Hermione shook her head.

"No, I'm positive about this. Look here." She opened the book and pointed at a painting on one of the pages; it showed four beautiful people, two male and two female. One of the women was tall, pale, and goddess-like, while the other was darker and while still beautiful, quite a bit shorter. It was this woman that caught Harry's eye. Something in his stomach squirmed nervously.

"Uh... Hermione? Please tell me that isn't Professor Thoreau," he said. Hermione said nothing; she just pointed to the caption under the painting, which read in faded script: "A rather famous painting in the wizarding world, this portrait is said to portray four French vampires. The names of the men are not certain, but it is thought that the two women are Juliette D'Amour and Vedette Thoreau." And underneath _that _was a faded date that made Harry gulp: "November, 1614."

"Couldn't it still just be a coincidence? I mean, couldn't Thoreau just have a great-great grandmother who looks like her?" Ron asked, pale beneath his freckles. Hermione pulled a face.

"Can't you just trust me on this? Look, there are other signs, as well. I've noticed Professor Thoreau's eyes getting steadily darker all year. I read in this book that vampires' eyes get darker when they get hungry, and she can't have fed for at least a few months now!" Harry chewed his lip nervously, thinking hard.

"So... what are you going to _do_ about this now that you know?" he asked finally. Hermione shrugged, shutting the heavy book and causing a cloud of dust to fly into the air.

"What else? I'm going to confront her and ask her if it's true."

"But aren't you afraid she'll attack you now that you know?" Ron whimpered. Hermione shook her head.

"No, of course not. Remember what Lupin said in Hogsmeade on Saturday? He said she's in the Order, and that they're friends. Do you really think she would attack us?" Ron shrugged, but Harry sighed.

"No, you're right."

"It's settled, then," Hermione said with a nod. "We'll ask her after class on Thursday."

-----

But Thursday came sooner than they expected, and they started to get anxious. Finally deciding that Harry would be the one to speak was hard enough; now they actually had to do it.

As the class filtered out after the lesson, Thoreau moved behind her desk and started to pack up for the day. Harry caught Ron and Hermione's eyes before they left and motioned for them to wait before marching up to the desk.

"Er... Professor?" Thoreau glanced up through her shiny black curls, showing that Harry had her attention. Ron and Hermione quietly came up behind him for support. "Professor, we've been wondering if we could ask you a rather personal question."

"Two questions, actually," Ron piped up. Harry shot a glance at him, and he shrugged helplessly.

"I don't see why you can't," Thoreau said pleasantly. She shut her bag with a snap and smiled up at them. "I'm all ears."

"Um... Professor, is it true that you're a... um..." Harry started to ask the question, but when Hermione noticed his hesitation, she broke in.

"Professor, we were just wondering if it's true that you're a vampire?" The question was followed with silence, in which Thoreau surveyed each of them, her dark violet eyes sparkling with amusement.

"And where would you have heard that?" she asked quietly.

"Someone kind of told us that you weren't all you seemed, and Hermione figured it out after that," Harry said hastily, afraid maybe that she was accusing them of something. All three students jumped when their professor suddenly burst into laughter.

"Er... Professor?" Ron said, exchanging nervous glances with his friends. Thoreau calmed down, still chuckling slightly.

"Good, _very_ good. I thought I was keeping it pretty well hidden," she breathed, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. Her students gaped at her.

"Then it's true? You _are_?" Hermione demanded. Thoreau nodded, grinning.

"What gave it away?"

"Well," Hermione was quickly gaining more confidence, now that she knew her theory was true, "your eyes, really. I read once that when vampires don't feed for a long period of time, their eyes get darker; your eyes were really light lavendar in the beginning of the year, and now they're almost black. Also, after the fight in Hogsmeade you were wearing a bandage around your left hand. The bandage was stained black, not red. And now," Hermione gestured toward Thoreau's hand, "there's not even a mark. Vampires bleed black and heal themselves."

"You really are the cleverest girl your age," Thoreau said quietly, eyeing Hermione with new respect. Harry remembered Lupin saying something similar when Hermione found out about him being a werewolf, and his mind was brought back to the question Ron had been going to ask.

"Oh, and we were wondering if you knew where Remus Lupin went after he was discharged from the hospital wing," he said hurriedly. Thoreau pulled a face, slinging her bag over her shoulder and heading for the door, her three students following.

"I'm sorry, I can't say I do." She froze. "Wait." She turned slowly, eyes narrowed. "Why would you assume that I would know who Remus Lupin is, let alone his current whereabouts?"

"Oh, well, you're both in the Order, so we just assumed you knew eachother," Ron said before Harry could shush him. Harry groaned, and Hermione placed an exasperated hand over her eyes; that was supposed to have been a secret. Thoreau was smiling and shaking her head, though.

"How would you know that? Who's been talking so much about me?" she asked.

"Lupin," Ron answered matter-of-factly. Thoreau sighed.

"Well, I'm going to have to have a talk with a certain werewolf the next time I see him. And not a word of any of this to your fellow classmates, understand?" she ordered. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all nodded obediently and Thoreau, seemingly satisfied, shut and locked the classroom door behind them. They were alone in the corridor, seeing as the next class was going to start soon, and Thoreau gave them passes and bid them good-bye before starting for her office.

Before she was too far down the hall, though, Hermione called after her.

"Professor, how old are you?" The vampire stopped in her tracks and smirked at them over her shoulder.

"I turned four-hundred and eighty-seven last April. See you next week!" And then she disappeared around the corner. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all grinned at eachother, then raced off to get to History of Magic.

**_Author's Note:_** Sorry for the general lack of action. It's going to be that way for a couple chapters, but don't let that be off-putting! This is all necessary, I swear! Even the painting Hermione found and the date it was painted might come into play later - you never know. Hope you're taking notes - haha!

Please comment, people! I want to try to get at least 50 for this story! And the more comments, the faster I update!


	4. Letters

**_Author's Note: _**Another update! Yay! I'm glad you guys are enjoying the story, and thankies for the spectacular comments!!!

Nothing more to say here, just read, enjoy, and comment!

**_Disclaimer: _**I do not own anything that has to do with "Harry Potter". All the nice little wizards (and the not-so-nice ones) belong to J.K. Rowling. I do, however, own Vedette Thoreau and my wittle feral.**  
**

**4. Letters**

A week passed since the Hogsmeade fiasco, and the next Saturday dawned dark and gloomy. Any hopes for more snow were quickly qualmed as rain poured down in torrents outside Hogwarts, beating against the windows and running in muddy streams over the grounds.

Harry awoke early that morning. A quick glance at the clock on his bedside table told him that it was 4:52 AM. He groaned irritably and was about to just turn over and go back to sleep, but something outside his window caught his eye. He blinked and sat up, hastily grabbing his glasses and shoving them onto his face so he could see.

"Hedwig!" he hissed, sliding out of bed and running to open the window for her. The soaked and shivering snowy owl stepped inside and cooed softly, nibbling Harry's hand affectionately before holding out her leg, where a dripping piece of parchment was tied. Harry took the note and unfolded it, trying not to rip it, as Hedwig shook herself, showering the inside of the window and Harry with freezing cold water. He gasped at the sudden cold and quickly moved back to his bed, finally succeeding in opening the letter. It was written in a hurried script that looked as though it was usually neat, but had been rather rushed:

_Harry,_

_I know it is early, but I would greatly appreciate it if you would make your way up to my office. I need to have a serious talk with you, and there is something I must say that I believe you will be quite interested in._

_Yours sincerely,  
Albus Dumbledore_

_P.S. I'm rather in the mood for a cockroach cluster_.

Harry reread the letter twice, then crumpled the soggy paper in his fist and got to his feet. Hedwig hooted softly at him, but he shook his head and placed a finger on his lips.

"Not now, Hedwig. Here, you can stay in my bed while I'm gone, just don't make any messes," he whispered. The snowy owl fluttered over to his four-poster obligingly and settled herself comfortably near his pillow. Her amber eyes watched him intently as Harry stumbled around, trying to get dressed as quickly and quietly as possible. When he was finally presentable, he grabbed his father's old Invisibility Cloak out of his trunk just in case and sprinted out of the dormitory, down the spiral staircase, and across the common room. He scrambled out of the portrait-hole, rousing the snoring Fat Lady.

"It's a bit early for you to be out, isn't it?" she demanded, glaring at him blearily.

"Sorry, I'm in a bit of a hurry," Harry said, then jogged down the hallway before throwing on the Invisibility Cloak and speedily making his way toward the seventh floor corrider that housed the Headmaster's office. He only stopped running once he was before the towering gargoyle that showed the entrance to Dumbledore's office.

"Cockroach cluster," he gasped, and the gargoyle leapt obediantly out of the way, revealing a spiralling staircase that Harry gratefully stepped onto. He vaguely heard the grating of stone as the entrance closed behind him, but his mind was only on what Dumbledore could possibly have to tell him at 5 o'clock on a Saturday morning.

He knocked on the door with a surprisingly shaky hand, and a soft voice from behind told him to enter. Harry walked into the familiar office, wringing the Invisibility Cloak between his hands.

"Ah, I'm glad to see that you've decided to answer my summons." Albus Dumbledore was sitting behind his great desk, hands clasped before him, smiling tiredly.

"I was already awake, sir," Harry said, nodding at Fawkes the phoenix when the bird trilled a note at him. Dumbledore motioned for him to have a seat, and Harry obliged, letting out a deep breath as he sank into the comfortable cushions.

"I assume you want to know why I have asked to speak with you on such short notice," Dumbledore said, his smile lessening as he got down to business. Harry nodded, trying to wrack his brain for anything that might give him a hint as to what was coming. Dumbledore's smile fell altogether and he leaned across the desk, eyeing Harry intently. "First of all, I need to ask you a question."

"Shoot," Harry said automatically, then bit his lip, thinking that might not be the best way to address the Headmaster. The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched, but his expression remained serious.

"Have you had any correspondance with Remus Lupin since last Saturday in Hogsmeade?" he asked. Harry frowned, thinking.

"Well, I visitted him in the hospital wing on Sunday with a few other former students of his, but..." He paused, starting to worry. "No, sir. I - I haven't heard from him since then. Is something wrong? Did something happen to him?" Dumbledore sighed and rose slowly to his feet, beginning to pace behind his desk.

"Harry, we of the Order have reason to believe that Lord Voldemort may at last have our dear werewolf in his clutches," he said solemnly. Harry's heart began to beat fast, somewhere in the region of his adam's apple. Voldemort had _Lupin_? He opened his mouth to say something, but Dumbledore was still talking. "No one has seen or heard from him since Sunday. He hasn't reported to the Order at all, he hasn't been to the Burrow, or 12 Grimmauld Place, or Hogwarts. Madam Rosmerta hasn't seen him since the attack in Hogsmeade, and Tom from the Leaky Cauldron says he hasn't served Remus for months." Dumbledore paused in his pacing, taking a deep breath. "It's as though he vanished into thin air."

"But sir, I still don't understand. What does Voldemort want with Lupin?" Harry exclaimed. Dumbledore turned to him, his face somber, his eyes lacking their usual twinkle.

"He wants to turn Remus regressive. He wants another strong werewolf, and one who knows much about the Order of the Phoenix. He also wants to halt the competition for werewolf alliance, seeing as the talented Mr. Lupin has rapidly been gaining followers for our cause," Dumbledore explained. Harry could only stare at his Headmaster; his mind was reeling.

Voldemort had taken his parents, then Sirius, and now he had Lupin? Was he going after the Marauders on purpose? Harry felt a familiar ache in his abdomen; it was the same ache he felt when he thought about his parents and Sirius. A feeling of emptiness. He hadn't realized how much he had begun to rely on Lupin as the sole father-figure in his life after Sirius's death...

And now Voldemort was going to rip him away from Harry, too.

"Harry, I thought you should know," Dumbledore was saying softly. Harry blinked out of his thoughts to see Dumbledore watching him carefully with his sharp blue eyes. "I know you are close to Remus, and I know Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger are, as well. They will want to know." Harry nodded numbly; he wanted to stop the growing feeling of despair that was quickly eating his insides. He also wanted to stop the little voice in his head that was crying, "Lupin is gone!" over and over.

"Professor, what can we do?" Harry asked suddenly.

"The Order are doing everything they can, but tracking someone down once Lord Voldemort has his claws in them is a difficult business, Harry. Professor Snape is trying as hard as he can to get inside information on Lupin from the Death Eaters -"

"Do you really think Snape is going to help, though? He _hates_ Lupin, just like he hated my dad and Sirius!" Harry burst, rising to his feet in frustration. Dumbledore didn't flinch; he continued to stare Harry down from over the rims of his half-moon spectacles.

"_Professor_ Snape _will _help, whether he likes it or not. It is his duty to the Order," he said calmly. He glanced out the window, and so did Harry. The sun was just peeking over the horizen. "I have kept you. I don't want you to be late for breakfast."

"Sir, will you keep me updated?" Harry asked, heading for the door. Dumbledore nodded serenely.

"In whatever way I can. And I don't think you'll need that just now," he added as Harry went to throw on the Invisibility Cloak. "Remember, Harry, that Remus Lupin is strong." Harry stopped at the threshold, turning back to see Dumbledore smiling at him again. "He will not give in to Lord Voldemort easily, I can assure you of that." Harry nodded, attempting a smile of his own, then hurried down the stairs and past the gargoyle so he could tell Ron and Hermione what he had learned.

-----

"You-Know-Who's got _Lupin_?" Ron exclaimed breathlessly for the third time, staring at Harry with wide eyes over his now-forgotten breakfast.

"Shh, quiet down, will you?" Harry said hurriedly, throwing an anxious glance down the table, where Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown were whispering to eachother.

"But Harry, this is _huge_. You-Know-Who's got Lupin!" Ron repeated, a little quieter this time, still holding a fork with a bit of sausage on the end halfway to his mouth.

"Yes, Ronald, we heard." Hermione finally looked up from her copy of the _Daily Prophet_, folding it up once more. Harry looked to her expectantly.

"Well?" Hermione shook her head.

"Nothing about any disappearances, and nothing about Lupin. But then, I'm not surprised. Don't you think the Order would want this kept secret?" she asked softly. Harry frowned, picking up the _Prophet_ himself and scanning the front few pages.

"I don't know, maybe. I mean, Dumbledore didn't say it was for sure that Voldemort had captured Lupin. His exact words were that the Order had 'reason to believe' that it was true." Ron finally managed to stuff the sausage in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

"How weird would it be," he said slowly after he swallowed, "if all of a sudden we got attacked by a feral Lupin?"

"Oh, Ron, that would be awful!" Hermione wailed. When several heads turned in the Great Hall to see what was wrong, she blushed slightly and lowered her voice. "How could you even say that?"

"Well, it bloody might happen! We're just gonna have to face it!" Ron retorted.

"I just wish we knew more definite facts," Harry mumbled, picking at his eggs. "I wonder if I should try to write to him..." Hermione shook her head.

"No, Harry. If Voldemort _has _managed to kidnap Lupin, he'd probably have someone catching all the owls headed for Lupin, and do you really want some Death Eater to get their hands on Hedwig? They'd recognize her as your owl, and then all of your correspondences would be in danger. I don't think you should risk it," she said smartly. Harry pulled a face; he hated to admit it, but Hermione was right. It was better just to let the Order handle this one.

"Yeah, all ri - OUCH!" Something hard and feathery hit Harry in the back of the head. He spun around in his seat to see a large tawny owl shaking itself on the ground where it had fallen. There was a letter clutched in its beak with vaguely familiar handwriting on it, addressed to Harry. He took it from the owl irritably, still rubbing his head where it smarted, and the bird - having done its job - flew rather lopsidedly away.

"That owl was injured," Hermione said sadly, watching the window it had just flown out of with a frown. Ron's brow furrowed, as well.

"Probably got caught by inspectors or something. Bastards - don't they know how to handle an owl?" he snapped, his face contorted with Mrs.Weasley-ish annoyance. If not for the mysterious letter in his hands, Harry would have made a witty comment about Ron's sudden likeness to his mother, but he withheld it just barely as he ripped open the envelope. Two pieces of folded parchment spilled onto his lap, and Harry grabbed the one that had his name on the outside. He unfolded it curiously and scanned it before exclaiming, "It's from Lupin!"

"Well go on, mate, read it out loud!" Ron urged. Harry looked back down at the letter and read:

_Harry,_

_I know I have not written to you for quite some time, and I am deeply sorry. It must be frustrating to be sitting at Hogwarts with barely any idea of what's going on outside the walls, and I wish I could keep you updated.  
I'm writing this letter, however, for a different reason. Harry, I need you to deliver the other letter in this envelope to Dumbledore. I cannot tell you why, but I can assure you that it is of utmost importance. Please see that he gets it immediately. I'm sure I can trust you.  
Also, I need to warn you: If you hear of anything serious going on with the Order, particularly involving the area of my "expertise," don't concern yourself overmuch. Keep your head down, and make sure Ron and Hermione do, as well. All that matters is that you are safe.  
I'll try to keep in touch. Hope everything is going well at Hogwarts._

_-Moony_

"So he's all right then?" Hermione asked after Harry had finished reading. Harry shrugged.

"I guess so. I mean, Voldemort wouldn't let him send out post, would he?" he asked. Ron was frowning and said nothing. Instead, he reached across the table and grabbed the parchment from Harry's hands. "Hey!" Harry exclaimed, but Ron ignored him.

"This is fishy," he said, scrutinizing the letter with narrowed eyes. "Why would Dumbledore lie about Lupin being in trouble?" Harry attempted to snatch the parchment back, but Ron held it out of his reach.

"Dumbledore wouldn't lie!" Harry said angrily. "He was probably just worried because no one had seen Lupin for a while. Give that back!" But Ron wasn't listening anymore; he was staring at something on the backside of the letter that Harry hadn't noticed before.

"Hermione, what day is it?" Ron asked, apparently ignoring Harry some more. Hermione blinked at the strange question.

"Er... I believe it's the fourteenth."

"So that would make last Saturday the seventh, right?" Harry and Hermione exchanged glances, but the latter decided to humor Ron, unsure of what he was up to.

"Yes, that's right. Why?" she asked nervously. Ron bit his lip and held out the letter for Harry and Hermione to see. Underneath the big red ministry stamp reading "APPROVED" was a miniscule date. Harry had to squint to see it, but when he did, his stomach dropped to his ankles.

"December ninth," he whispered defeatedly. "This was written after he was discharged from the hospital wing, two days after the attack."

"So You-Know-Who could still have managed to get him," Ron said. Harry stared at his cold breakfast, suddenly not hungry. A ray of hope had shined forth through the emptiness in his stomach for a moment when he had read the letter, but now it had been crushed and he was back to feeling only despair.

"I really thought he was okay," he muttered dejectedly. Ron half-smiled sympathetically and handed Lupin's letter back.

"Me too, mate."

"Hold on." Harry and Ron jumped at Hermione's suddenly assertive tone. She was glaring at them both suspiciously, as though they had each committed some terrible crime.

"What?" Harry asked nervously.

"Why would it have taken this long for an owl sent on the ninth to arrive?" she demanded.

"You expect us to know?" Ron snapped back. Hermione ignored him and looked as though she was going to continue her rant when suddenly she gasped.

"Harry, Dumbledore's part of the letter! You should get it to him!" she said shrilly. Harry grabbed the other piece of parchment from his lap and looked at it curiously.

"Wonder what it says that's so important," he mused. Ron shrugged.

"Open it." Harry was about to, when Hermione burst again.

"NO!" she screeched. Heads turned again, even as people began to file out of the Great Hall. Harry and Ron forced helpless smiles at the nearest onlookers, then turned to Hermione angrily when they left. She was sitting with her hands cupped over her mouth, her eyes wide.

"Hermione, _hush_!" Hary scolded. "I'm going to read it - it's not even sealed." Ignoring Hermione's frantic head shakes, he unfolded the letter and read:

_He's after me.  
I'm pulling a Padfoot._

_-Moony_

"'Pulling a Padfoot'? What does that mean?" Ron wondered as the trio finally filtered out of the Great Hall, heading back up to the Gryffindor common room to complete some homework.

"You know what? It probably means he's going into hiding like Sirius did after he escaped from Azkaban! So Voldemort really _doesn't_ have him, he's just in hiding, and the reason Dumbledore is worried is because he didn't get this note of warning!" Harry said excitedly, waving the parchment in front of Ron and Hermione's faces.

"Then it's really important for you to get that to him, Harry," Hermione said, having calmed down a bit after her outburst in the Great Hall. Harry nodded.

"Yeah, I'm going to go deliver it now. I'll see you guys later!" he said, then sprinted off to the seventh floor corridor once again.

**_Author's Note:_** Poor Hermione - always getting yelled at. And poor Lupin - no one knows where he's at! ... Or does _someone_ know and just isn't speaking? Hmm...

Comments, please!!! Remember, the more comments I get, the faster I update. Thanks! You guys rock!!! XD


	5. Vision

**_Author's Note: _**Well, I figure it's about time I updated. It's been a while, especially for me; I like to keep my updates quick so my readers don't go crazy! ;D

A couple warnings for this chappy!

1. Mild Lupin torture. (yay)

2. ... um, I don't want to ruin the chapter, so the second warning can be read after you're done. -innocent smile-

3. This chapter is rather short compared to my others, so sorry...

_**Disclaimer: **_I do not own anything that has to do with "Harry Potter". All the nice little wizards (and the not-so-nice ones) belong to J.K. Rowling. I do, however, own Vedette Thoreau and my feral, Silas. (You learn his name in this chapter.)

Okay, enjoy!**  
**

**5. Vision**

Luckily, the password hadn't change since earlier that morning and Harry was able to get through the entrance and up the spiral staircase with no problems. Once outside the door, however, he heard voices from inside. Pausing, he recognized the Headmaster speaking with - a bubbling, loathing feeling burned its way through his chest - Severus Snape.

"- assure you, Headmaster, that the Dark Lord has not yet succeeded in capturing the werewolf. It is definitely one of the things he has been trying to accomplish for some time, but he has not yet reeped the rewards," Snape was saying coolly.

"You are sure?" Dumbledore asked, his voice troubled.

"Yes, I am sure," Snape replied. Harry heard Dumbledore sigh.

"All right then, Severus, you may go. I thank you for your time." Harry sprinted silently down the stairs a ways to show that he had not been eavesdropping, then began to walk slowly upwards. About seven steps up from where he had started he passed Snape, who fixed on him a look of the utmost loathing. Harry returned it full-force, then passed his least favorite teacher without a word.

"Harry! To what do I owe this pleasure?" Dumbledore said once Harry had knocked and been invited inside the office. He immediately sprang into an explanation of the two letters he had received earlier at breakfast (conveniently leaving out the fact that he had read the one for Dumbledore) and handed the last one to Dumbledore, who read it with a smile.

"He's gone into hiding. I should have known - Remus always was one to catch on quickly. One of the smartest in his class here," he reflected affectionately. He then smiled broadly at Harry, the twinkle back in his blue eyes. "Thank you very much for this. I don't think you realize just how helpful it is. This will qualm many a-worrying hearts."

"I'm sorry I couldn't get it to you sooner," Harry said. Dumbledore smiled and waved off the apology, then folded Lupin's letter carefully and stowed it in a drawer in his desk.

"There was nothing you could have done better, Harry. Now I believe you're going to be late for a Quidditch practice, am I correct?" he asked mischeviously, his eyes twinkling at Harry from behind the half-moon glasses. Harry gasped as he suddenly remembered the practice he had set for that morning. His watch read 9:28, and everyone was due down at the Quidditch pitch by 9:30.

"Thanks, Professor! I have to go!" he said hastily, then hurried out of the office and down the stairs while Dumbledore chuckled behind him.

-----

The whole of the team was there when Harry ran up, five minutes late, panting and clutching his Firebolt.

"It sets a bad example for the Captain to be late, you know," Ginny said with a wink. Harry grinned at her breathlessly, doubled over and leaning on his broom for support.

"Everyone here?" he gasped, looking around. Ginny, Katie Bell, and Demelza Robinson were already dressed and ready to go (that made three Chasers); Jimmy Peakes and Richie Coote were tapping their legs with their bats absently (two Beaters); and Ron was just pulling on his Keeper gloves. Harry grinned at them all. "Good. Let's go out there and have a good, hard practice."

Altogether, the Gryffindor team flew very well. The Chasers were quite good, even after losing Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson the year before, and the two rookie Beaters weren't bad, either, though they still couldn't compare to the Weasley twins. The only team member who seemed to be lacking was Ron, who would fumble a save and then mess up over and over again because of nerves. Harry was flying high up in the air, watching as Ginny scored goal after goal on her older brother, and actually found himself wistfully thinking of Oliver Wood...

Suddenly, a searing pain shot through his head. He cried out as his vision was dotted with black and white spots and clapped a hand to his forehead; it felt as though his head were splitting in two, sliced straight along the lightning bolt-shaped scar over his right eye. All he could think of was the pain, and the strange sensation of falling as people far below him called his name, then everything went black.

-----

_A scream. A man in great pain. Harry could hear him, and then could see through the reigning blackness that had engulfed him._

_He was in a dark room with only one door, no windows, and completely void of any furnishings. He saw three men before him, two very familiar, one only vaguely so._

_One of the familiar men was standing tall, wearing black robes. He had a pale, snake-like face, with bright red eyes that had only black slits for pupils. He was smiling, baring hideous teeth, and he held a wand in one pale, long-fingered hand. Harry would know him anywhere: Lord Voldemort._

_The other familiar man had been merely a crumpled heap when Harry had first seen him, but now was being held upright by the last man. The familiar man was breathing heavily, and looked to be in agony, but his hazel eyes still held a strong fire of defiance as he glared at Voldemort. Harry recognized him as Remus Lupin._

_The vaguely familiar man could barely be called a man at all. He seemed to be covered in dense, dark fur; he had golden eyes and sharp, wolf-like canines; and his hands and feet were clawed. Harry knew this was the regressive werewolf who had injured and taunted Lupin on the day of the Hogsmeade attack._

_"Why don't you join me, Remus? You could be great, I can tell. You have strength, and your wolf has strength. Let Silas unleash it for you. Become feral; become what you are meant to be, and be it for me," Voldemort was saying softly. Lupin's glare intensified._

_"I'll die before I ever join you," he spat. The feral - Silas - growled and made as though to hit Lupin, but Voldemort held up a hand to stop him._

_"That's a brave thing to say. Do you really mean it? Would you willingly give up your life?" he asked. Lupin smiled grimly._

_"I've given up worse things." Voldemort watched him for a moment, then nodded to Silas. The feral kicked Lupin savagely, making him cry out and double over in pain. Harry tensed and made to run to him, but then realized that he couldn't do anything, anyway. All he could do was watch, helpless to stop it. _

_"Dumbledore would do just about anything to help you, wouldn't he? You're his precious werewolf, his connection to the darker side of wizarding kind. I wonder if I could... lure him here to you. Play his weakness, just like I did with Potter last year." Harry's insides boiled with anger when Voldemort mentioned this; what had happened in the Department of Mysteries was the thing that Harry regretted the most in his entire life. It had cost Sirius his life, and all because Harry had felt the need to play hero._

_"He won't come," Lupin rasped, still clutching his stomach. "He thinks I'm in hiding. He won't notice that I'm gone, and he'll sense a trap." Voldemort nodded again, and Harry winced as Silas dealt another hard kick to Lupin's side, throwing him onto his back. Voldemort still had his wand out and Harry was wondering why he didn't just curse Lupin, but then he remembered something that Lupin had told him, Ron, and Hermione a while ago at Grimmauld Place._

_"The Cruciatus Curse and the Imperius Curse are the only magical spells - besides the Killing Curse - that can work against a werewolf. However, their effects are much different on werewolves than on humans, and it is often better for the one doing the cursing to refrain from using them at all," he had explained. _

_"What do you mean?" Hermione had asked. "Surely you're not impervious to them?" Lupin smiled, shaking his head._

_"No, but they do not have the effects that the attacker would want. They only release the wolf within each werewolf cursed, which could do greater harm to the attacker than to the victim of the curse." So Voldemort was hesitant to curse Lupin, and instead had to use brute force, in the form of Silas. _

_"You have such great faith that Dumbledore will just let you be. What will he do, though, when he discovers you aren't in hiding at all? He's bound to figure it out at some point..." Voldemort trailed off, smiling maliciously at Lupin. "But then, I am hoping that he won't come at all and you will be forced to join me. Wouldn't it be a pleasure, Silas, to watch Dumbledore's trusted werewolf maul young Harry Potter?" Harry's eyes widened at the mere thought of it as the feral nodded, grinning now and baring his sharp canines._

_"I'm telling you, you'll have to kill me," Lupin growled, rising shakily to his feet and glaring at Voldemort. Harry couldn't help but admire him; it took a lot to maintain your composure in front of Lord Voldemort, perhaps facing your death. Voldemort sighed and flicked his wand lazily; a dagger appeared in thin air, and he grasped the handle with a pale hand._

_"I'm not going to kill you, Remus," he said, examining the knife with his red eyes. "But I am going to make sure you won't escape me." Without another word, he lunged at Lupin and plunged the dagger into the werewolf's side._

_"NO!" Harry cried, but no one heard him. He watched in breathless horror as Lupin went rigid; his hazel eyes went wide with shock and pain, then dulled and rolled back into his head. He slumped against Voldemort, and the Dark Lord whispered in his ear._

_"You _will_ join me. I _will_ have you for myself, if I have to take the risk and curse you to do it," he said. Then he stepped back, allowing Lupin to collapse onto the floor. Voldemort held the dagger aloft and examined it again, only this time it was only the hilt; Harry realized with a jolt that the blade was still embedded in Lupin's side._

_"Silver," Voldemort hissed. "How very useful in a situation like this." Silas stepped back habitually, being a werewolf himself and vulnerable to silver. The hilt disappeared from Voldemort's hand, and the Dark Lord took one last look at Lupin's unconscious body. "He will remain here. You come with me; we have work to do." Then with two loud CRACKs, he and Silas Apparated from the room, and Harry was forcibly pulled back into blackness._

_**Author's Note: **_-gasp- OH NO'S!

Okay, so the second warning has to do with the silver dagger. I KNOW that J.K. Rowling has made statements before saying that silver doesn't affect the werewolves in her books and yadda yadda yadda, but I liked the idea too much to let it slip past me, so I used it. No yelling at me for that, please.

I also have no idea what color Lupin's eyes are. I always saw them as hazel. -shrug- Meh. To each his/her own, I guess. No yelling for that, either.

Comments, please! You rock! XD_  
_


	6. Pursuit

**_Author's Note: _**Ta-da! Here you guys go, another chapter, this one chock-full of action-y, angst-y goodness!

Wow. So I've written most of this story way ahead of time, but now the chapters are starting to catch up to me. I mean, here I am, already posting chapter 6, and I'm only partially through writing chapter 10! Stupid writer's block!

Ah, well, enjoy and comment!

**_Disclaimer: _**Er... yeah, you know the drill.**  
**

**6. Pursuit**

Harry opened his eyes slowly and saw three blurry bodies standing around him, one with bushy brown hair, the other two with bright red. He groaned and closed his eyes against the brightness of the lights above him.

"Harry?" Someone was saying his name softly, and a gentle hand grasped his. He opened his eyes once more and saw one of the red-heads leaning in toward him, what looked like a worried expression on her face. "Harry, can you hear me?"

"Ginny? What happened?" he groaned. It was Ron who answered, sitting on the bed beside him.

"We aren't really sure. All of a sudden you yelled out, and Ginny saw you grab your head. Then you just started to fall. Lucky Katie and Ginny caught you, otherwise you'd be in a lot worse shape." He paused, licking dry lips. "You've been out all day. We were real worried, mate." Harry was about to say that there was nothing to be worried about, he was fine, when suddenly he remembered what he had seen.

Voldemort. The feral. Lupin. Voldemort asking questions, Lupin defying him, the feral hurting him. Then the dagger, the silver, and Lupin's unconscious body. All came rushing back in an instant, and Harry bolted into a sitting position, grabbed his glasses from off the side table, and swung his legs out of bed: he had to tell Dumbledore.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Ron asked, trying to push him back in bed.

"Maybe you shouldn't be moving yet," said Hermione, looking rather pale.

"Harry, _please_ lie down," said Ginny, making to take his hand again. Harry forced his way to his feet, insisting that he was fine even though the hospital wing was spinning quite uncomfortably around him.

"No, no, I have to see Dumbledore," he said, pushing past Hermione toward the door.

"POTTER! What are you doing out of bed?" Harry groaned; Madam Pomfrey had just come bustling out of her office and was now headed toward him, looking mutinous. "Bed rest! That's what you need!"

"But ma'am, I have to see the Headmaster! It's an emergency!" he insisted. Ron was frowning at him, his eyes worried.

"Was it your scar?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"Worse," Harry answered quietly so no one else would hear. "Help me get out of here and I'll tell you." Ron brightened at the prospect, and the two of them managed to get the girls and Madam Pomfrey from off Harry's back within ten minutes. Harry exhanged a significant glance with Hermione, clearly saying that he'd tell her everything later, and she obediantly offered to walk Ginny back up to the common room because of the late hour.

-----

Meanwhile, on the way to Dumbledore's office, Harry explained the dream he'd had about Lupin and Voldemort. Ron managed to stay quiet throughout the whole thing, only wincing every time Harry said "Voldemort."

"But Harry, are you sure it's true? I mean, couldn't it just be another trap set by You-Know-Who?" Ron asked once Harry was finished.

"No," Harry said, shaking his head, "because I don't even know where they were, so how could I be lured there? Besides, Voldemort - oh, _do_ stop - only mentioned me a couple times. For once, _I _wasn't the one he wanted; it was Lupin!"

While Ron pondered this, they approached the gargoyle. For Harry, it was the third time that day he had to recite "cockroach cluster" and walk up the winding staircase, but he knew this was too important to wait.

"Enter," Dumbledore said softly from behind the closed office door when Harry knocked. He threw the door open and practically tumbled inside, wasting no time before getting straight to the point. Before he could speak, however, Dumbledore smiled and rose to his feet.

"Harry! And Mr. Weasley, as well! My, but this _is _a surprise," the Headmaster said, acting oblivious to Harry's open mouth.

"Professor, it's important! It's about Lupin!" Harry burst out. Dumbledore frowned slightly.

"I thought we discussed his situation already this morning," he said. Harry nodded impatiently.

"Yes, but I had a dream, sir. It showed him with Vol-" A sharp knock cut him off, and Ron jumped as the door opened right behind him, and in swept Snape.

"I'm sorry, Dumbledore, but I have an urgent message for you that I'm sure is much more important than what these two buffoons have to say," he said quickly. Ron opened his mouth to retort, but Harry caught his arm; something wasn't right. Snape actually looked nervous about something; drops of sweat clung to his forehead and his eyes were wide and almost frightened.

"Well, if it's all right with Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley..." Dumbledore was still calm as he raised his eyebrows at the boys, and Harry nodded in consent; he wanted to hear what Snape had to say.

"I wonder if we could have some privacy," Snape said, sneering slightly at Harry and Ron, who merely glared. Dumbledore chose not to notice the little exchange and smiled at the Potions master.

"Anything you have to say to me will, in time, get back to Harry, and therefore Mr. Weasley, so I believe they can stay. Now I thought this message was urgent." Snape sighed, but knew he couldn't win.

"I've just received a message from Bellatrix Lestrange, stating that the Dark Lord has requested a meeting with you, in person, and he wants you to bring Potter," he said quietly, as though hoping that maybe Harry and Ron still wouldn't hear. Dumbledore's expression became suddenly serious.

"Did she specify what about?" he asked. Snape hesitated.

"It's about Remus Lupin." Dumbledore closed his eyes tiredly.

"He's not in hiding?"

"He's not in hiding," Snape said. "I swear, Headmaster, I didn't know when you spoke with me earlier. You must believe me." Harry scoffed noticably, and Snape glared at him, but then Dumbledore opened his eyes and fixed his ice-blue gaze on the Potions master.

"I believe you." Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Dumbledore turned his eyes to him next, halting any complaints. "Harry. Let's go."

"Now?" Harry blurted. Ron stared, wide-eyed, between the two of them, but said nothing.

"Surely, Headmaster, you aren't going to go without an adequate guard," Snape said hurriedly. "I myself can accompany you -"

"No, Severus, you and Minerva are needed here. I do not think Voldemort is luring Harry and I to our deaths, at least not today, and I will be enough of a guard for the boy should the situation prove dangerous," Dumbledore said quietly as he conjured up two black travelling cloaks, throwing one to Harry, who caught it in a numb hand.

He was going to see Voldemort. Why was he going to see Voldemort? Wasn't it a trap? Snape couldn't be trusted, Harry knew that deep down, so why was Dumbledore playing along? He didn't have much more time to think about it, because Dumbledore had just gotten the location from Snape and was ushering Harry out the door and down the stairs.

"Professor, how do you know this isn't a trap?" Harry asked once Snape and Ron were out of earshot, the latter looking helplessly after him and the Headmaster as he was steered back to the Gryffindor common room by the Potions master.

"Honestly, Harry? I don't. But Remus is too important to the Order for us to ignore this so-called meeting," Dumbledore said, his voice sounding almost cheerful. Harry wasn't at all comforted, but knew better than to pursue the subject. They walked on in silence.

Out the gates, over the dark grounds, and into Hogsmeade. Once they were there, Dumbledore grasped Harry's arm and pulled him into an alleyway.

"We're going to Apparate to the destination. Hold on to my arm tightly, Harry, and prepare yourself." Harry obeyed, clinging to the Headmaster's right arm. "On the count of three, then... one... two... three..."

Dumbledore's arm wrenched away from him, but Harry grabbed onto it tighter and was soon flying along with him. It was a very unpleasant sensation, like being spun round and round, then stuffed down a pipe and pulled out the other end. Harry's ears rang, he couldn't see anything, and the pressure was so great that he felt his head was going to burst. Then suddenly when he couldn't bear it anymore, it was over, and he was staggering to his feet in a dark room.

As his eyes cleared, he realized with a gasp that this was the room he had visitted in his dream, only Lupin's unconscious body was nowhere to be seen.

"Something wrong, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes worried as they glanced down at Harry. Harry shook his head, not wanting to explain himself here.

"N-nothing," he stuttered.

"Dumbledore." Harry jumped and spun; near the doorway was a tall wizard, dressed all in black, the face covered with a heavy hood. But Harry didn't need to see the face to recognize Lord Voldemort; that terrible voice was all-too familiar. "I'm so glad you could make it. And young Harry, as well! What a pleasure."

"Tell me what you want, Tom, and we can skip all these niceties," Dumbledore said softly. Voldemort tensed noticably at the use of his hated father's name, but he didn't take the bait.

"I'm here to talk to you about a deal," he said, lifting a pale hand to lower his hood. Harry steeled himself as best he could, but it still wasn't enough to cover the primordial shock of seeing Voldemort's barely-human face. The red eyes glinted in the dim light of the room.

"You have my attention," Dumbledore said, apparently unfazed.

"I'm sure you know by now that I have managed to get my hands on a certain werewolf, who, I have recently learned, is quite dear to your heart, Dumbledore," Voldemort said casually. Harry glared daggers at the evil wizard before him; if it was possible, he would say he hated him even more because of what he had done to Lupin.

"I'd heard something like that." Dumbledore was still showing no emotion. Voldemort smirked and waved his wand almost lazily at the empty space beside him. With a loud _CRACK_, two figures appeared: the feral Silas and, at his feet, the crumpled form of Lupin.

Harry felt Dumbledore tense beside him, and a quick glance at his aged face showed that his eyes had hardened when the two werewolves appeared.

"What have you done to him?" the Headmaster asked quietly, his eyes never leaving Lupin. The werewolf had, Harry noticed, regained consciousness since the last time Harry had seen him, but he appeared to be too weak to move.

"Fascinating substance, silver. Eh, Dumbledore?" Voldemort taunted, still smirking. Harry's insides boiled with fury, but he had enough sense to let Dumbledore handle the situation. Any rash actions could cost Lupin his life, and Harry would be guilty for another of his friend's murders.

"My deal," Voldemort was continuing, "is a sort of trade. Before I state the terms, however, I want you to think long and hard about what Remus Lupin means to you and to your precious Order of the Phoenix. A valuable connection to the werewolves. An extremely talented fighter, who cost me four Death Eaters before I could capture him properly." (Harry couldn't help but smile a bit at this.) "A dear friend and ex-pupil. Am I right?" Voldemort was pacing now, and he didn't wait for Dumbledore to answer before plowing on. "And just think of the poetic irony if I were to allow Silas here to turn him feral. Bring him to my side. Imagine: the 'Boy-Who-Lived' mauled by ex-professor. Ministry Aurors connected to the Order killed by ex-member. Even the great Dumbledore, hurt by a regressive werewolf he was reluctant to injure because of past sentiments." Voldemort paused here, letting it all sink in.

"Tom -" Dumbledore began, but Voldemort turned on him abruptly, his face contorted in rage.

"_Never call me that!_" he snarled. Then, as though nothing had interrupted him, he went back to normal, nodding to Silas. The feral ruthlessly grabbed Lupin by his hair and wrenched him up into a kneeling position, his neck arched back at a painful angle so that he was staring at the ceiling. The expression on his lined face was one of absolute agony, and Harry knew it was because of the silver still embedded in his side.

"So Dumbledore," Voldemort said conversationally. "You can get your werewolf back, in exchange for the Potter boy."

"Albus, don't -" Lupin groaned, but he cut off with a cry of pain as Silas struck him fiercely across the face, leaving four deep claw marks identical to the ones Madam Pomfrey had healed a mere week ago. Harry winced, wishing beyond anything that he could help his friend.

"You know I can't do that," Dumbledore said stiffly, his apathetic expression finally turning pained.

"Then you _want_ me to allow Silas to make your Lupin a feral? Because I can assure you, he has wished for nothing more," Voldemort said, twirling his wand in his long, pale fingers.

"Remus..." Dumbledore sounded pleading.

"_No_, Albus - _Harry_ -" Lupin rasped, but Silas dealt him another deafening blow that stunned him into silence.

"Going once..." Voldemort warned. Dumbledore threw one last helpless look at Lupin, hanging limply in Silas's clutches, then firmly shook his head.

"You'll never get Harry," he said determinedly, but Harry could have sworn his voice cracked once.

"But Professor -" he protested.

"No, Harry." That was the end of it. Voldemort looked less than enthused, but he shrugged it off and looked to Silas with a malicious smile.

"Do as you wish," he said, then flashed one last glance in Harry's direction and met his eyes for the first time during that meeting; Harry's scar burned, but he refused to show his pain, and it left in a rush and a _CRACK_ as Voldemort Apparated from the room.

"Finally," Silas moaned, then bent over Lupin before Dumbledore and Harry could move and plunged his canines into the other werewolf's exposed throat. Lupin's eyes went wide with agony, and his body stiffened in Silas's hold as blood gushed down his robes.

"_NOO!_" Harry cried, rushing forward, but Dumbledore caught his arm and held him back. Lupin, with his last ounce of consciousness, heard Harry's scream and met his eyes resolutely, the hazel gaze saying only one thing: _Don't blame yourself._

Then his eyes closed a final time, and Silas lifted his blood-soaked mouth and let loose a howl that should never have been able to come from a human; Harry shuddered at the sound and clapped his hands to his ears.

It was at this moment that Dumbledore chose to act. He sent a spell flying at the distracted feral, and it hit him in his face, sending him sprawling against the opposite wall, Lupin tumbling out of his grasp.

"Harry, grab my hand!" Dumbledore ordered, running over to Lupin's body and seizing the werewolf's limp arm. Harry hastened to obey as Silas recovered with a roar and leapt at them, but Dumbledore Apparated the second Harry's hand had touched his, and the claws never came near.

There was the feeling of being pulled through a tube again, and then all of a sudden Harry was in Hogsmeade again. While he struggled to regain his senses, Dumbledore knelt over Lupin, checking his pulse and breathing. A jagged, blood-stained blade - hiltless - was in the Headmaster's clenched fist; Harry hadn't even noticed Dumbledore pull it out of Lupin's side. The very sight of it made his insides squirm.

"Harry, I can't heal these wounds, and I don't have enough strength to carry him up to the castle. I need you to run as fast as you can and fetch Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape, tell them it's an emergency," Dumbledore said, his eyes never leaving Lupin. Harry hesitated, wanting desperately to stay with the werewolf, but knew he could only help him by doing what Dumbledore asked. He started for the castle at a sprint and didn't stop until he reached the hospital wing.

**_Author's Note: _**ACK! -runs from flying objects- I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but the torture is necessary!!!

COMMENTS, PLEASE!!! THANKS!!!


	7. Vampires

**_Author's Note: _**Sorry it took me a little longer to update! Like I said before, these chapters are gaining quick, so I've been concentrating more on writing than posting. Sorry again!

This chapter is a bit Thoreau-centric (in case you couldn't tell by the title...), but it's necessary, so don't worry; this is NOT going to turn into a mainly OC-based story.

**_Disclaimer: _**You know the drill, I don't own anything, yadda yadda yadda...

Enjoy and comment!**  
**

**7. Vampires**

Once Lupin was securely quarantined in the hospital wing, being cared for by Madam Pomfrey, Dumbledore met with Harry and Snape in his office.

"Severus, I need you to make an extremely complicated potion. It's a strong cousin to the Wolfsbane potion, and it may slow or even halt the process of Remus becoming feral," Dumbledore said, peering at Snape above his half-moon rimmed glasses. Snape looked indignant at the idea of spending his entire night making a potion for one of his school enemies, but only nodded and bowed out of the room.

There was a silence after he left, in which Dumbledore didn't look at Harry for a long time.

"I hope I never have to make a decision like that again in my life," he whispered at last, his old eyes sad as they finally met Harry's. Harry thought he saw the glint of tears behind the glasses, but he couldn't be sure.

"But, Professor, you still saved Lupin," Harry said, not quite sure of why Dumbledore was so depressed.

"I didn't think I'd be able to. I thought we had lost him for good, Harry. Had Voldemort not left, we surely would have." Dumbledore smiled weakly. "A tactical error on his part that I'm sure he has realized now and is deeply regretting."

"Will Lupin be all right?" Harry asked softly. Dumbledore sighed heavily, resting elbows on his desk and letting his fingertips touch lightly before his face.

"I don't know, Harry. His wounds will heal, in time, under the care of Madam Pomfrey, but I'm not sure if he will be feral or not. We will not know until he awakens, which may not happen for quite some time," he said.

"Sir? Exactly how does a werewolf become feral?" Harry asked; he had never had a proper lesson on werewolves in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and the question had been gnawing at his mind ever since the Hogsmeade attack.

"Usually it is a choice. The infected human chooses to share his or her mind with the wolf, and so shares his or her body, as well. They become strong, yes, and they maintain the same intelligence as the person bitten, but they are also consumed with a never-ending bloodlust and savage nature. They are - as you can probably guess - the most dangerous kind of werewolf." Dumbledore paused, closing his eyes tiredly. "In Remus's case, however, the decision was not his. When Silas bit him a second time, it weakened the human in him and strengthened the wolf, so giving it the means to take over him. Remus can fight it, though, and I'm sure he will. If he triumphs over it, he can remain as he is. If he loses the battle... then we will have another feral on our hands, and will probably be forced to kill him," Dumbledore said wearily.

"_Kill _him?" Harry stammered, gaping at his Headmaster. "But who could possibly -"

"I would do it, Harry. It would be better for us, and better for Remus. But believe me," Dumbledore said with a grave smile, "I'd much rather that he beat the wolf and stay our Remus." Harry made no reply, only staring at Dumbledore helplessly. "Now, Harry, it is late. Go to bed. You've had a hard day." Harry recognized the dismissal and bid Dumbledore goodnight.

The Headmaster sighed heavily once Harry was out of the room and rested his head in his hands. What followed was one of the rare moments of weakness in Albus Dumbledore's life, but thankfully Fawkes was the only one to see his tears.

-----

Harry walked through the dark hallways of Hogwarts aimlessly. He knew he should head up to the Gryffindor common room, but he couldn't bear to face anyone at the moment. No one would understand what he had just been through.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't realize someone was following him until a cold hand grasped his shoulder. He jumped and immediately shied away from the touch, spinning round to see who had grabbed him.

"Professor Thoreau!" he said, rather needlessly. Thoreau took her hand back quickly, as though she had been burned, and Harry suddenly realized how pale she was. He also noticed a small sheen of sweat upon her forehead, and worry trumped his fright. "Professor, are you all right?"

"I heard about Remus," Thoreau said quietly, her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides. Harry looked away, and Thoreau sighed. "So it's true, then." She closed her eyes. "It's what we had feared."

"If it's all right, Professor, I'd really like to go to bed," Harry said, his voice a bit colder than he meant for it to be. Thoreau seemed oblivious to him, though, as she opened her dark eyes and nodded distractedly.

"Yes, of course. Good night, Harry," she said, and Harry turned away in the direction of the Gryffindor commonroom. As he began to climb the stairs, he wondered why Thoreau had seemed so strange. It couldn't only be because of Lupin, could it?

He shuddered suddenly and glanced back down the stairway, but Thoreau was gone. A chill was creeping up and down Harry's spine at the very thought of her, and another great shudder wracked his form as he realized what had been different about his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor that night.

Hermione had said before that vampires' eyes darkened with hunger.

There had been no hint of violet in Thoreau's eyes at all. They had been pure black.

She was starving.

-----

Thoreau watched Harry trudge up the stairs, and only relaxed after he disappeared around the corner. Sighing, she massaged her pale, shaky hand, attempting to rub out the deep indents caused by her claw-like nails. It was getting so hard to resist the urge to feed these days that she found she had to surreptitiously clench her fists everytime she was near a human.

It had been nearly six months since she had last fed. The thirst gnawed at her stomach like a live animal; it felt as though her insides were collapsing upon themselves, eating themselves away. Needless to say, Thoreau was thoroughly uncomfortable, and had begun to let her usually flawless exterior crumble; this was evident merely due to the fact that she had allowed herself to be wounded in the battle last week. She was a vampire! She had almost five hundred years of experience! She had been made in 1539, at the tender age of 19 nonetheless. It was unthinkable that a mere _feral_ had been able to injure her.

Thoreau ran a hand through her curls as she walked away, thinking.

So Voldemort _had_ managed to get Lupin. The notion was even more frightening to her than to Harry or Dumbledore, because it threw into perspective the kind of danger that she might be in. After all, she was the emissary Dumbledore sent to the vampires to try and sway as many of them onto their side as possible, but she also had another purpose in dealing with her own kind, one that could prove to be exponentially more dangerous should Voldemort find out about it...

And at the moment she was helpless; there was only so much she could do in her current ravenous state. Maybe she should just leave for the night to hunt. To be frank, she didn't know how much longer she could teach at this rate. Every student to her looked how a cool, clear glass of water looked to a parched desert traveller. A battle raged in her mind during every class and it was quickly becoming unbearable.

Without another thought, she made a beeline for the Headmaster's office.

Once outside, she muttered the password to the gargoyle and hurried up the staircase. She had barely rapped twice on the door before a voice from within told her to enter.

"Ah, Vedette. To what do I owe this pleasure?" Dumbledore asked with a polite smile. Thoreau placed herself safely behind the chair sitting in front of Dumbledore's desk, her hands gripping the cushy chairback tightly. Even at this distance, the scent of the Headmaster's blood flowing through his veins was proving to be dangerously enticing.

"Actually, Albus, I am having quite a large problem. It seems that even I cannot go a full school year without feeding, as we had previously thought might be possible," she stated calmly. Dumbledore narrowed his eyes at her, his ice blue gaze boring into her black one.

"I can see that," he said finally, relaxing back into his chair and resting his elbows on the armrests, then lacing his fingers together in front of his face. "Tell me," he continued after a moment, "must you go tonight?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm absolutely famished, and I don't know how much longer I can keep up this facade," she said honestly. Dumbledore sighed.

"All right, then. I can hardly keep you." Thoreau inclined her head to him respectfully. "But Vedette, I must ask you to be careful. Lord Voldemort must be in a rage because of earlier tonight, and Merlin knows he would be just as eager to get his hands on you as he would be to get Remus," Dumbledore said, his eyes sad. Thoreau nodded.

"Of course. I will return before dawn," she said, then left the office without another word.

-----

The cloaked figure peered through the smoke-clouded atmosphere of the Muggle bar, scrutinizing each and every one of the drunken inhabitants as she moved into one of the many shadowy recesses of the room to await her first victim.

Vedette Thoreau was not a thoughtless mankiller; she chose her prey carefully, preferring to feed upon those who obviously were not being expected anywhere, or humans who appeared to be criminal.

Vampires, by nature, were first and foremost predators. And, like all predators, they had their own methods of attracting prey. Their inhuman beauty played a key role, but there was also the lesser known way of controlling pheremones to ensnare the attention of a nearby male or female Muggle (vampires tended to avoid feeding on wizards, if only because the two races knew much of each other and shared similar secret lifestyles).

Thoreau delicately removed her hood and cloak, setting them down carefully in a booth before sitting there herself. She absently fluffed her inky black curls and perused the faces of the late-night partiers intently, still searching out her prey.

There.

Near the bar, an embarassingly wasted fifty-something male was staring at her already, grinning a ridiculous toothless grin. Thoreau smiled at him and tilted her head seductively, baring her pale neck to him. His slightly glazed eyes widened, and he looked around dumbly, then pointed a single tattooed finger at himself, as though asking "Me?" Thoreau nodded and beckoned, then drew back into the shadows of the corner booth to prepare herself.

The man was single; no ring graced his heart-finger, and Thoreau could smell no female presence on him at all. All she smelled was alcohol, sweat, a small tangy hint of marijuana, and the intoxicating scent of his blood, throbbing beneath his wrinkled, tattooed skin. As the man crawled into the booth beside her, Thoreau caught the faint scent of another's blood on him, not belonging to the man at all.

_So_, she thought, gracefully pulling the man farther into the shadows with her, _I've caught a murderer. Perfect._ It was all the proof she needed.

Thoreau placed her lips on the man's neck, allowing her tongue to trace the main artery. This brought a shudder from the man, and she decided to begin before he got _too_ excited.

Without any more ado, she plunged her fangs into his neck and began to drink.

Three hours and four victims later, Thoreau was feeling extremely refreshed and full enough to last another good six months. She left the rowdy bar - minus four male customers, who were now probably growing cold in the dark corner booth - and headed out into the London street.

She took in a deep breath, relishing the feeling of fresh blood flowing through her veins.

"Nice night for a walk, isn't it?" a male voice asked from not far away. Thoreau smiled, not bothering to turn and face the newcomer.

"It's not wise to sneak up on someone in the middle of the night, Adrien. You never know what they might be capable of," she said. The voice chuckled softly, and a tall man stepped out of the shadows beside her. He was handsome, if a little too pale, and the glint of fangs in his grinning mouth revealed his true nature.

"So how is Hogwarts treating you?" he asked, casually placing a cigarette between his lips and lighting it. Thoreau shrugged, leaning against a nearby light post nonchalantly.

"Well, I guess."

"Do they suspect?"

"No."

"Good. Keep it that way." Adrien took a drag on his cigarette and blew it out slowly, his expression pensive. Thoreau made a face and waved her hand in the air, trying to disperse the smoke.

"You know that smoking kills, right?" she asked pointedly. Adrien grinned and winked.

"There is very little that can kill us right now, Vedette, and you know that," he said. Thoreau sighed and looked away.

"Yes. I do." Adrien watched her curiously.

"Don't tell me you're having second thoughts. Everything we have depends on this plan going right." He became suddenly serious, his dark eyes flashing. "Your safety, _and _mine, hangs by a thread. Do not think you are the only one being used here, _Professor_ Thoreau. You should remember that your job is one thousand times easier than mine." Thoreau winced as though struck; she knew that what he said was true.

"You're right. I'm sorry." Adrien's face softened, and he smiled.

"Just be sure that no one suspects what you're doing. I'll keep in touch." He took one last drag from the cigarette before throwing it down on the ground, where it went out with a hiss. He swiftly placed a kiss on Thoreau's cheek, then backed away towards the bar with another smile.

"I would pick a different haunt for tonight, Adrien. That one seems to be all used up," Thoreau said quietly before her companion left. Adrien cocked an eyebrow as - almost as if on cue - a scream sounded from behind the sturdy wooden door.

"Been busy?" Thoreau smiled.

"A little."

Then without another word, the male vampire vanished into the darkness and Thoreau was left alone, with only the muffled screams from the bar to keep her company.

**_Author's Note: _**Uh-oh. Is she good, is the bad? We won't know for sure for quite a while! -wink-

Comments please! Thanks for reading, you guys are great!


	8. Reunion

**_Author's Note: _**Another chapter, this one rather difficult to write for some reason. -shrug- Meh, I got it out...

Not much to say... Thanks for all the reviews, again, I _really_ appreciate them! And a special thanks to DecemberDrops for some good advice.

And now I have to go write some more, excuse me...

_**Disclaimer: **_Still no owning of "Harry Potter" here...**  
**

**8. Reunion**

On Sunday, the weather turned cold again, and the greying skies hinted that more snow was to come. The Christmas spirit was starting to set in, as well, seeing as there were only five more days of classes until the holidays. Professor Flitwick had charmed his classroom so that a fluffy snow fell from the ceiling all day, but evaporated right over the students' heads. Eight grand pines had been erected in the Great Hall, each decorated beautifully with live, shimmering fairies and long strands of tinsel.

The most noticable change in the castle, though, was in the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Some of the students had realized that Thoreau had been acting odd for a couple of weeks, and the sudden shift back into her serene self was rather unnerving. These initial feelings melted away, though, once they realized that they would be practicing Patronus charms in the last few days before vacation.

"Finally, a spell I can do with no problem, all thanks to the D.A.," Neville Longbottom said to Harry as they left Defense Against the Dark Arts the day of the announcement. Harry forced a smile and nodded in agreement; it was true that the Patronus was a spell he had come to be quite familiar with and was very adept at casting, but it made him think too much of Lupin. After all, the Marauder had been the first one to teach it to Harry in his third year.

Lupin - according to Dumbledore, who gave Harry updates as much as he could - was still showing no signs of awaking from his coma. Harry often wondered why Dumbledore didn't transfer him to St. Mungo's, but when he asked Dumbledore merely said, "It wouldn't be prudent. Besides, Poppy is qualified enough to watch over Remus while he is here."

Harry had tried to visit Lupin quite a few times in the week following the incident with Voldemort, but he just couldn't muster up the courage to actually go through with it. He sometimes found himself just standing outside the door leading into the hospital wing, staring at the handle as though willing it to open of its own accord and let him in. Other times he would walk around the halls near the hospital wing, passing the door over and over and each time thinking to himself that he would enter the next time he passed; he never did.

Ron caught him doing this on the last day of classes, a Friday, and the sixth day after Lupin had been saved.

"Oh, go on, mate. Go in and see him," Ron urged rather nervously, standing beside Harry, who was now staring at the closed door before him. Ron and Hermione had visitted their ex-professor that Tuesday, and Harry had been so frustrated when they had returned - Hermione's eyes red and watery - that he hadn't spoken to them all day.

"I'm doing it today," Harry said harshly. He was glaring, but not at Ron; it was the door - that stupid door which was still refusing to open for him - that was making him angry.

"Harry -" Ron began, but Harry didn't want to hear any more. He took in a deep breath, took three steps up to the door, and pushed it open. Leaving Ron speechless behind him, Harry entered the hospital wing at last and shut the door behind him with a solid thud.

The room was bright and clean, the midday sun shining merrily through the tall windows and illuminating the large hall with blissful ignorance to Harry's current mood.

Long white drapes had been pulled around a bed in the far left corner of the room, and Harry knew without a doubt that Lupin was behind them. He gulped and trudged forward, trying not to think himself out of the visit. He was determined to spend at least a little time with the werewolf, no matter what.

Madam Pomfrey noticed him just as he approached the curtains and walked over, smiling sadly.

"Are you here to visit Remus, my dear?" Harry nodded mutely, and Madam Pomfrey pulled back the drapes with one hand. "Take your time."

"Thanks," Harry muttered, then walked through the opening, the drapes falling back into place behind him. He barely noticed, though; his gaze was locked on Lupin's motionless figure, lying in the solitary bed in the corner. As Harry watched, he could see him breathing, his chest rising and falling steadily. Harry hesitantly made his way over to a chair that someone had placed by the bedside and sat on the very edge, still watching the older wizard.

"Er... Remus?" Harry said quietly, feeling awkward as soon as Lupin's first name reached his lips. There was no reaction; he hadn't really expected one, but it made his stomach clench to be so ignored. He swallowed dryly and continued. "Umm... listen, it's been really hard for me to get myself to come here, but I just want to say that I'm sorry." Harry guiltily felt a lump begin to rise in his throat, and his eyes started to prickle with threatening tears. "I feel terrible. I mean, to see you here, like this..." His voice trailed off. Harry bit his lip and took Lupin's limp hand; it was cold. "Please wake up soon," he pleaded quietly, hoping that Madam Pomfrey wasn't listening in. "I don't think I can take this for much longer. I - _we_ - need you to fight this thing and beat it as soon as you can."

"Harry?" Harry jumped to his feet, spinning round to face Dumbledore, who had just joined him.

"Professor! I - what are you doing here?"

"Well, I would have assume that to be obvious," Dumbledore said with a slight smile, "but judging by your flustered appearance I think it will suffice to say that I am here to visit Remus." Harry flushed.

"Yeah. Right." Dumbledore chuckled and glided over to Lupin's side, looking down at him affectionately.

"There is no need to be embarassed," he said softly. "I talk to him every time I visit." Harry didn't reply, still mildly uncomfortable with the situation. The Headmaster didn't seem to mind the silence; he lifted a single aged hand and passed it over Lupin's face, his fingers glowing slightly. Harry opened his mouth, about to ask what Dumbledore had just done, when the Headmaster turned to face him, smiling.

"Good news!" he said brightly. "Remus is coming to, and it looks like he'll be just fine." Harry blinked at this sudden announcement.

"He... he's waking up?"

"That's right."

"... Now?" Dumbledore shook his head, still smiling.

"No, but soon." He laid a gentle hand on Lupin's shoulder. "You see, Harry, I have been testing his mind every day since he was bitten and today is the clearest it has been by far. I would be willing to guess that he'll be up and about by Christmas, at the latest."

Harry felt as though someone had just lifted a great cinder-block from his shoulders, and it took everything he had to refrain from throwing himself on his Headmaster in joy.

-----

Harry, Ron, and Hermione visitted Lupin every day after that, hoping to be there when he woke. They were some of the few students still left at Hogwarts after the start of the holidays, and were only joined in the Gryffindor dorms by Ginny, Fred, and George.

Finally, on Christmas Eve, they walked into the hospital wing together and were shocked to see a rather large group of people clustered around Lupin's bed.

"Ron! Harry, Hermione, my dears, how are you?" Before he knew it, Harry was caught up into an enormous hug by Mrs. Weasley, squished against her ample bosom along with Ron and Hermione.

"Mum - choking - cut it - out -" Ron gasped.

"Sorry, sorry!" Mrs. Weasley let them go, practically bouncing with excitement. "I'm just so... oh, it's just so wonderful to see you all!" Harry smiled at her, rubbing his ribs.

"It's great to see you, too, Mrs. Weasley, but why -"

His voice trailed off as he caught sight of what - or rather, whom - everyone was circled around across the room.

Lupin smiled tiredly from where he was sitting on the side of his bed.

"Hello, Harry."

Harry hadn't even realized he was running until he had thrown himself into the Marauder's arms, burying his head into Lupin's shoulder unashamedly. He was clinging to him with all his strength, almost afraid that if he didn't hold on tight enough, Lupin would disappear again. The elder was surprised by the affection at first, but then he wrapped his arms around Harry, resting his chin in the untidy black hair and closing his eyes...

... before two more bodies barrelling into him announced the arrival of the rest of the trio.

-----

Albus Dumbledore watched Lupin get buried by his ex-students with a smile.

"It's good to have him back," Professor McGonagall said softly from beside him. Dumbledore blinked and glanced at her, surprised to see tears in her eyes.

"Minerva, are you all right?" he asked. She sniffled and waved a hand at him, wiping her tears away with a smile.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. I just never realized how much Remus really meant to all of us. And now, seeing that," Professor McGonagall gestured toward where the three friends appeared to be attached to Lupin, "I'm just wondering why he really had to leave Hogwarts. He was so good with the students, Albus."

"You forget that it was his _own_ decision to leave," Arthur Weasley piped up from Dumbledore's other side, grinning at the happy reunion before them.

"Oh yes," Professor McGonagall murmured absently. Dumbledore chuckled.

"Come," he said quietly, turning toward the door. "Let's leave them to privacy."

-----

Harry felt as though something soft and fuzzy had wormed its way into his abdomen. He felt so warm, so safe, in Lupin's embrace and underneath the solid bodies of his two best friends. He never wanted this happy moment to end, never wanted to go back to fighting Death Eaters and Voldemort, forced to sacrifice friends and loved ones for the sake of some great battle. He wanted to capture the feeling of euphoria wriggling in his stomach and keep it forever.

**_Author's Note: _**I don't know why that was so hard for me to write. I guess I just really wanted to capture the emotion, or maybe I'm just not good at happy, mushy goodness. Who knows? Oh well, it's over now! Comment please, love ya!


	9. Christmas

**_Author's Note: _**Sorry this chapter is a little late! I like to update every other day, but I couldn't yesterday, although I swear it was NOT for lack of trying! There was some sort of silly error thing going on and it wouldn't let me submit a document. So sorry!

Woo-hoo Weasleys! Enjoy!

**_Disclaimer:_** I don't own "Harry Potter."

**9. Christmas**

Harry awoke the next morning to a pillow being thrown in his face.

"Presents!" Ron exclaimed, already diving into the pile of gifts at the end of his bed. Harry grinned and sat up, shoving his glasses onto his face. He had a pile, as well, and he knew the first one before he even opened it.

"Argh! Maroon! It's _always _maroon!" Ron whined, holding a hand-knit sweater from his mother up so that Harry could see. Harry's first present was from Mrs. Weasley, as well; it contained a sweater of his own, a deep ruby, with a lion rampant on the front. Harry slipped it on, knowing that Mrs. Weasley would be pleased to see him wearing it, and next unwrapped a strange lumpy package that was from Hagrid. To his relief, it only contained some homemade fudge that smelled suspiciously like cheese; Harry set it aside, reluctant to try any.

Ron's gift to him was a collection of the best Honeyduke's chocolate bars, one of which Harry devoured before moving onto Hermione's gift for him.

"Cool, Hermione!" he whispered. Hermione had gotten him - unsurprisingly - a book, but it was a first-edition hardcover entitled _Quidditch: The Sport, The Lifestyle, The Phenomenon. _It covered everything from the first Quidditch games to secrets from the pros. A note slipped out of the front page when Harry started flipping through it, and he grabbed it before it fell.

_Harry - I know reading isn't your favorite thing in the world, but Viktor recommended this book for any Quidditch lover, and I thought it looked really interesting. Hope you enjoy it, and Merry Christmas!_

_Love, Hermione_

_P.S. - If you look on page 264, Viktor is quoted, and he mentions how well you flew in the Tri-Wizard Tournament two years ago!_

Harry turned to the given page and skimmed it. Sure enough, there it was:

_... reknowned Bulgarian Seeker Viktor Krum, says that young fliers just keep getting better and better. "Harry Potter has great talent for someone so young," he told interviewer Agatha Pocknuckle. "I got to see him fly in the Tri-Wizard Tournament a couple years back and his control astounded me."_

"Ron! Ron, look at this!" Harry said. Ron dropped the box of Bertie Botts' Every Flavor Beans he had gotten as part of his gift from Harry and ran over, joining Harry on his bed and reading the page Harry was pointing at.

"Wicked - you're in a book!" he said when he was finished. Harry grinned and set the book aside, turning back to his remaining presents. One was a complete Skiving Snackbox from the Weasley twins, with a small note attached to it thanking him again for his help with their funding, followed by a pair of knit socks from Dobby the house-elf and a Weird Sisters CD from Tonks.

"Hey," Ron called from across the dorm room. Harry looked up with a smile; Ron had finally put on his maroon sweater, but looked less than pleased about it. "I'm going downstairs. I'll see you down there?"

"Yeah, sure," Harry said, and Ron left, closing the door behind him.

Harry turned back to the final present, which was little and unlabeled. Frowning slightly, he ripped it open, and something small and golden flew out of it. Out of habit, Harry reached out and caught it, holding it tightly in his fist; he didn't have to open his hand to know what it was.

The Golden Snitch hummed pleasantly in his hand as Harry searched for a note in the present. Finally, he located it and unfolded it carefully, still keeping a firm grip on the Snitch.

_Harry,_

_I'm terribly sorry I couldn't afford a real present for you this year, but I think this will do for now. It may sound odd, but this was your father's; he stole it in either his third or fourth year at Hogwarts and kept it to practice with. At some point I think I stole it back just to keep him from constantly playing with it, and forgot to return it. Whoops._

_So now I feel I can redeem myself by presenting it to you, the new star Seeker in the Potter family._

_Happy Christmas!_

_Moony_

_P.S. - If you want it to stop flying around, merely tap it with your wand and say "Arretio." Don't ask me why; James spent an entire day trying to figure out what would stop it, and that was the only spell that worked. To get it going again, just throw it into the air; it'll start to fly. Have fun!_

It didn't sound nearly as odd to Harry as Lupin might've thought, just because he, Harry, had seen his dad playing with a Snitch when he had entered Snape's memories last year. Harry took out his wand and held the fluttering Snitch between his thumb and forefinger, then tapped it and said "Arretio!"

Immediately, the tiny wings stopped buzzing and curled around the ball obediantly. Harry smiled and made to place the Snitch on his bedside table, but then thought twice and stuffed it into his pocket beside his wand, then headed down to the commonroom.

-----

The Weasleys were all staying in the Gryffindor dorms, and when Harry descended from his room wearing his handmade sweater, Mrs. Weasley practically smothered him in delight.

"You _do_ like it, don't you, Harry?" she asked once she had finally let him go. Harry smiled at her.

"Yeah, it's perfect, Mrs. Weasley," he said. Mrs. Weasley beamed, but Fred and George made loud gagging noises from behind her. She rounded on them immediately, shouting that they ought to be more grateful for their own sweaters, and Mr. Weasley approached Harry for the first time since he had arrived the day before.

"How are you doing, Harry?" he asked quietly, the serious tone of his voice quite out of place amidst the laughing and celebrating of the rest of his family.

"I'm fine," Harry replied, watching Croockshanks bat at a wad of wrapping paper before the fire.

"Dumbledore just told the Order yesterday everything that happened to Lupin, and you," Mr. Weasley said. "He said he hadn't wanted us to worry," he added rather bitterly; apparently he didn't agree with this point of view, as Harry could tell from his pursed lips and creased brow.

"Really, Mr. Weasley," he said hurriedly, "I'm fine. Honest." Mr. Weasley raised an eyebrow incredulously, but Harry was saved from further interrogation by Hermione bounding down from the girls' dorms with Ginny.

"Happy Christmas!" she called, looking particularly festive with tinsil tied in her bushy hair. She and Ginny wore their sweaters, as well, both in different shades of pink. Mrs. Weasley grabbed each of them up into hugs, as well, and Harry thought he saw happy tears in her eyes.

"It's the first time in a while that our family's been able to get together for Christmas without some tragedy having to happen," said a voice at Harry's shoulder; he jumped, having completely looked over the oldest Weasley brother, Bill. "Mum was going crazy yesterday getting all of your sweaters ready. She's really worried that not all of us are going to be back next Christmas..." Bill's voice trailed off, and Harry knew he was thinking of some of his own close calls.

"I - I'm gonna go thank Hermione for my gift," Harry said, moving away quickly. He hadn't gone two paces before the gloom set in. This time last year he had been having Christmas at 12 Grimmauld Place, and Sirius had been there, singing carols at the top of his lungs. Harry watched Mrs. Weasley, who had returned to scolding Fred and George, suddenly get caught up in an enormous bear-hug from the twins and couldn't help but smile. Harry missed Sirius desperately, but that was no reason to be sad on Christmas, especially when he was surrounded by such great friends.

-----

"I'll be back when the rest of the school gets back, okay?" Ron said for the umpteenth time that afternoon as his mother tried to drag him out the front doors.

"Yeah, I've got it, see you then!" Harry laughed, waving as the rest of the Weasleys headed out the door. Ron grinned and waved, as well, giving Mrs. Weasley a chance to push him in the direction of the waiting carriage.

"Good-bye, Harry, dear. It was wonderful to see you again!" Mrs. Weasley said brightly, hugging Harry and kissing him once on each cheek before bustling out the doors and ushering Ron away.

Harry waited by the doors, watching the thestral-drawn carriage disappear down the worn path leading away from Hogwarts. The Weasley family was going to Romania to visit Charlie over the New Year, leaving Harry and Hermione with the run of the Gryffindor dorms for the rest of the break.

After the Weasleys' carriage was out of sight, Harry trudged back up the stairs toward the Gryffindor dormitory, prepared to start some of his over-the-break homework (the most dreadful being a three-foot long essay on the most deadly poisons, assigned by Snape).

"Harry!" Hermione was walking toward him, a great big grin on her face. "Want to come with me to visit Lupin?" Harry brightened immediately at the prospect and agreed, so the two of them made their way to the hospital wing.

"Harry, Hermione! Merry Christmas!"

Lupin was awake and sitting up in his bed when they arrived, smiling at them. Harry didn't miss the copious amounts of flowers surrounding the bed that hadn't been there before; they were most likely from members of the Order who had only been told of Lupin's ordeal the previous day.

"Merry Christmas! How're you feeling?" Hermione asked, settling herself cross-legged at the end of the bed. Lupin shrugged.

"Well enough, considering the circumstances," he said. He turned to Harry. "And how are you?"

"Fine," Harry said; he felt like a broken record, having just said the same thing to Mr. Weasley that morning. Lupin, like Mr. Weasley, didn't seem to believe this, but luckily he let it drop. Hermione noticed the look exchanged between the two of them, though, and quickly changed the subject.

"We're studying Patronuses in Defense Against the Dark Arts," she blurted. Lupin grinned.

"_Are _you now? I would expect Vedette to throw something like that on you right before a vacation," he said musingly, his hazel eyes twinkling. Harry remembered something then.

"Oh!" he said with a clap of his hands. "Remember in Hogsmeade when you told us Professor Thoreau was hiding something? Well, Hermione figured it out. She's a vampire!" Lupin nodded.

"That's right."

"Why did Dumbledore hire her?" Hermione wondered. "I mean," she added quickly, "it's not like she doesn't know what she's doing - in fact, she's probably the most competant Defense teacher we've had since you were here - but couldn't she be dangerous? I know she must have fed recently, but if she hadn't, she could have killed any of us, couldn't she?" Lupin looked thoughtful.

"Well, yes, but I could have killed any of you, as well. Besides, Vedette is over five hundred years old, meaning she has five hundred years of learning how to fast under her belt," he said. "And also, Dumbledore wanted another member of the Order to be at Hogwarts, and she was one of the few who were willing and qualified."

"Why would he want another member of the Order here?" Harry asked.

"To look after you, of course," Lupin answered matter-of-factly, looking rather surprised that Harry hadn't realized that before.

"But I don't need looking after. Not as long as Dumbledore's here," Harry said, frowning. Lupin shrugged.

"Hey, don't ask me, I don't make those kinds of decisions." He looked around at all of the flowers around his bed. "So... I know this is completely off the subject, but do either of you two have chocolate on you? For all these lovely bouquets, not _one_ person has gotten me candy, and I have a major craving." Harry grinned and rose to his feet.

"I'll be right back."

**_Author's Note:_** Silly Lupin, having chocolate cravings. -shakes head-

Anyway, I need to ask you readers something... I'm planning (aka - thinking about once in a while when I'm not doing anything else, which is rare) on perhaps posting another Harry Potter fic up here, but taking place in the Marauder era. Because I'm seriously missing my Sirius, and I just LOVE all things MWPP.

Sooo... thoughts? Should I do it? No? Let me know what you think! Thanks, you're the best! -hugs-


	10. Warning

_**Author's Note: **_We're at chapter 10! At last, in the double digits! XD Wooo! Nothing much to say, just want to request that you keep reviewing!

Enjoy!

**_Disclaimer:_** I don't own "Harry Potter." Still.

**10. Warning**

The week after Christmas passed quickly, and soon New Years was approaching. Lupin was back on his feet and out of the hospital wing the day after Christmas, having moved temporarily into the Room of Requirement. Harry and Hermione could often be found sitting with him in the Great Hall, getting served by the house-elves (who seemed to remember Lupin from the many excursions he and the other Marauders had made to the kitchens; they grinned happily and bowed until their noses reached the floor whenever he so much as smiled at them) and getting him to help them with their copious amounts of homework.

"This is ridiculous," Lupin muttered one morning, holding his head in his hands and staring at a complex numerology chart as the three of them waited for the house-elves to produce some breakfast. "I don't remember any of this."

"It's all right," Hermione said, smiling and taking back the chart. "Help Harry with his Transfiguration essay, he looks like he's going to throw up." Harry glared at her, but pushed the parchment in Lupin's direction regardless.

"Yeah, you should be an expert on this stuff. It's all about Animagi and how they learn to transform," Harry said, smirking at Lupin knowingly. The older wizard snorted.

"In case you've forgotten, my dear friends became Animagi without my knowing, so I really _shouldn't_ be an expert. You'd be better off actually reading the chapter for once," Lupin retaliated jokingly. Harry made a face, but was interrupted before he could answer.

"Good morning!" Dumbledore strode up to the table, smiling through his long white beard.

"Good morning, Albus," Lupin said with a smile, looking up at the Headmaster. "Would you like to join us for breakfast?"

"No, no, thank you. I have to gather my affairs before all the students return from the holiday. But I do hope to see the three of you for the New Years feast tonight! It would take our planned attendance up to eight!" Lupin raised his eyebrows.

"Is it really New Years already?" he mused aloud, shaking his head. "Crazy. But yes, Albus, I would be happy to attend."

"We'll be there too, Professor," Harry said after a glance and a nod from Hermione. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily over his glasses.

"Wonderful. See you in here at seven!" He inclined his head briefly, then swept out of the Great Hall in a flurry of blue robes.

Moments later, the post came, and two owls came spiralling down from the open windows. One of them brought two issues of the _Daily Prophet_, one going to Lupin and the other to Hermione, both of whom placed a bronze Knut in the pouch tied onto the bird's leg before it took off again with a swoop of its large, tawny wings. The other owl was Harry's Hedwig, bearing a single rolled piece of parchment. She landed on the table before him, almost overturning his goblet of pumpkin juice, and held her leg out, hooting dolefully. Harry untied the letter and unrolled it quickly, curious to see who had written to him; his only correspondants since Sirius had died (his heart twinged painfully at this thought) were Lupin, who was sitting right across from him, and Hagrid.

The letter was only one line long. Harry frowned as he read it, and Hermione noticed, looking up from the _Prophet_.

"What is it, Harry?" she asked.

"This letter," he said vaguely, still pondering it.

"What does it say?" Harry glanced at Lupin, who was watching him from over his paper, brow furrowed. Harry cleared his throat and read it aloud:

_Watch the Blood-fiend. Keep close the Wolf. 'Ware the Year's Birth._

Lupin's frown deepened and he set down the _Daily Prophet_, clearly finding Harry's letter more interesting.

"Is it signed?" he asked. Harry nodded.

"It says it's from 'the Alchemist', whoever that is," he said, petting Hedwig absently.

"Maybe it's a pseudonym," Hermione suggested.

"A who-do-what?" Harry asked, looking baffled.

"A fake name," said Lupin. "An alias a person uses when they don't want others to know their real identity. May I see that, Harry?" he asked, holding out his hand. Harry handed it over and Lupin studied it closely for a minute or two.

"Well, the message isn't all that cryptic," he said, returning the letter to Harry. "It's telling you to watch Thoreau, keep a close eye on me, and beware New Years, which is tonight."

"How do you know that?" Hermione asked. "Is 'blood-fiend' another way to say vampire?"

"Basically, but it's a very crude way that hasn't been used for centuries," Lupin said, clearly rather put-off by its use. He stood abruptly. "If you'll excuse me, then, I'm going to go inform Dumbledore about that letter. Is that all right, Harry?" Harry nodded dumbly and he and Hermione watched as Lupin exitted the Great Hall, leaving two confused students behind.

A house-elf suddenly appeared at Harry's side and tugged on his robes to get his attention.

"Would young sir and mistress still like some breakfast?"

-----

"I wonder why he was so upset about that letter," Harry wondered after the two of them had finished eating the enormous breakfast the house-elves had provided. They were walking up to the library to do some more homework, passing portraits that kept wishing them a happy New Year.

"Well it's obvious, isn't it? I mean, why would he want to find out that some anonymous letter-writer is sending you warnings about how you have to keep a close eye on him when he's twice your age and practically your guardian?" Hermione asked, acting as though it was the most evident thing in the world. "And also, his pride might already be a little hurt because Voldemort managed to capture him before."

"But getting captured by Voldemort is _nothing_ to be ashamed of! I _saw_ him, Hermione, I saw him stand up to Voldemort, which is bloody hard to do, _and_ he took out four Death Eaters before he got caught," Harry said. Hermione shrugged.

"Well, either way, it's got to be hard." She paused for a second, ignoring the already-drunken wizard in a painting to her right yelling obscene things at her. "But what about the last warning, Harry? The one about tonight? Do you... do you think there'll be an attack?" she asked, looking frightened.

They had approached the library doors now, and Madam Pince was peeking out at them suspiciously. Harry pulled Hermione into an unoccupied classroom hurriedly and shut the door behind so that they could talk in private.

"I don't know," he said quietly, answering her question. "I don't see how Death Eaters could attack Hogwarts, especially not with Dumbledore here, but who knows? We'll just have to be prepared, I guess."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione whispered, her eyes wide and over-bright. She was clutching her Arithmancy book to her chest tightly. "Harry, they can't take Lupin again, can they? Is V-Voldemort still after him?"

"I don't think he's given up on him yet, no. But stop worrying! Dumbledore is going to be here tonight, and so are Lupin, Professor McGonagall, Hagrid, and Thoreau," Harry said, trying to sound optimistic. Deep down, he was praying to God that the letter was a fluke, sent by someone like Malfoy just to freak him out.

"But the letter said we should watch Thoreau. Could that... could that mean she's a traitor?" Hermione asked, still barely speaking over a whisper. Harry sighed and leaned against the door.

"I don't know, Hermione. I just don't know."

-----

As the morning turned to afternoon, Harry began to notice signs of increased security around the castle. Filch could be seen setting up traps by each of the doors, looking immensely happy with himself; Harry was sure that anyone caught in those traps would probably end up in the hospital wing, and so made mental notes to avoid them.

Once, in the mid-afternoon, Harry caught Snape talking in hushed tones to Dumbledore near the entrance to the Great Hall. The Potions master looked livid, and Harry - curiosity piqued - decided to get a bit closer. Pretending to be absorbed in the book he was currently carrying (a large tome on Aurors and their specified jobs that Lupin had lent to him), he edged a bit further down the stairs, careful not to go too fast or get too close.

"- can be trusted? Who knows what the Dark Lord did to him while he was in His custody? What if he's using the werewolf as a way to gain information, like he almost did with Potter last year?" he was hissing. Dumbledore shook his head, his eyes closed serenely.

"No, Severus. Remus is not a traitor, or a spy, and I won't stand for you constantly accusing him."

"Then what about the vampire? Do we really know where _her_ allegiance lies?" Snape demanded, seeming almost desperate to convict someone of treason.

"Is this really all because of the warning that Harry received today, or have you been holding your suspicions in all this time?" Dumbledore asked, sounding amused. Snape narrowed his eyes, but didn't dare retort. Instead, he looked past the Headmaster's shoulder and noticed Harry, to the younger's dismay. The look of frustration quickly changed to one of pure loathing, as it always did whenever the Potions master's eyes lit upon his childhood enemy's son.

"Potter!" he barked. "What are you doing?"

"Reading," Harry replied innocently, holding up the book so that both Snape and Dumbledore, who had turned to face Harry, could see.

"A likely story," Snape sneered.

"Now, Severus, I'm sure it wasn't Harry's intention to overhear our conversation," Dumbledore said, although with a rather pointed look at Harry.

"Er, yeah, I was just heading to the Great Hall," Harry lied with a smile.

"You see?" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Completely harmless. Off you go then, Harry. And don't forget about the feast tonight! Seven o'clock sharp!" Harry grinned and nodded, then hurried the rest of the way down the stairway, eager to tell Hermione what he had just heard.

-----

"Doesn't it seem like he's trying to place the blame on anyone but himself?" Harry asked as he and Hermione packed up their school books after an afternoon of studying in the Gryffindor common room.

"I don't know," Hermione said timidly, not meeting Harry's eye. "Did you ever think that maybe he's just worried about tonight? Or that maybe you're a bit biased, just because you two hate each other so much?"

"So you don't think what I heard was suspicious?" Harry demanded, shoving his Potions book into his sack with an unnecessary amount of force.

"I didn't say that!" Hermione exclaimed defensively. "All I'm saying is that you should just let it go. It might not even mean anything."

"But then what about the letter?"

"What _about_ the letter?" Hermione asked, sounding slightly exasperated.

"We need to know who sent it. Who is the Alchemist, and why would he want to warn us? Is he on our side, or is he with Voldemort? Is the warning valid, or just a diversion for something else, something worse?" Harry rattled these off rather quickly; he had been thinking about the mysterious letter all day, and still couldn't find any answers to these questions.

"Look, Harry, let's just get to the feast. It's New Years Eve, and we should have fun," Hermione said. She had already slung her bag over her shoulder and was heading up to the girls' dormitories. "I'll meet you back down here at half past six, okay?"

Harry watched her go, frustrated with her for not taking the situation more seriously, but deciding that in the end she was right.

There was nothing more he could do. Lupin had told Dumbledore about the warning, and the Headmaster would handle everything.

-----

At a quarter till seven, Harry and Hermione walked into the Great Hall together.

It looked magnificent: streamers and balloons filled every corner of the room, and the single table in the middle of the hall was decorated with party hats and confetti. Large letters glowing with neon brightness flashed "Happy New Year" in midair, and charmed confetti was falling continuously from the ceiling, like the snow had before in Professor Flitwick's classroom.

Lupin, Dumbledore, Hagrid, and Professor McGonagall were already waiting, chatting casually around the table. Hagrid grinned at Harry and Hermione when they entered.

"Happy New Year!" he called, spreading his arms wide. Harry grinned back at him.

"It's not the New Year yet," he joked. Lupin chuckled as Hagrid's entire bearded countenance fell.

"Just go along with it, Harry. Hagrid's already had a few too many," he said quietly. Hagrid just let out an obnoxiously loud guffaw and grabbed Lupin up into a bone-crushing one-armed hug. The Marauder shot Harry an "I-told-you-so" glance, and Harry laughed; maybe he _could_ just forget all about that silly letter and have fun tonight.

The festivities began precisely at seven, just as Dumbledore had ordained. The six in attendance were soon joined by Thoreau, who was looking rather peaky (Harry wondered why; he hadn't seen her since the last day of classes, and at that point she had been looking just fine) and (to Harry's digust) Snape.

The feast went smoothly for about four hours. Everyone ate their fill of the house-elves' best cooking, and conversation was pleasant (despite Harry and Snape purposefully ignoring each other across the table).

At a quarter to midnight, though, the heavy doors burst open and Argus Filch staggered into the Great Hall, covered in blood.

Seconds later, all hell broke loose.

**_Author's Note: _**Cliffy! I think my first _real _one for this story... oh well, review and I'll update fast!

Thanks! Love you all, faithful readers!


	11. Midnight

_**Author's Note: **_In this chapter, my readers, action abounds!!! -dances- This was another hard chapter to write, for some reason... but it progressively got easier. -shrug- Dunno why.

Hope you enjoy! And don't forget to leave your feedback!

**_Disclaimer: _**I don't own anything that has to do with "Harry Potter." I only own Silas and Thoreau.

**11. Midnight**

The first few minutes passed in a blur.

"They're here," Filch managed to rasp before promptly falling to the floor in a gorey heap. Those two words acted as an invitation for ten masked and robed Death Eaters to appear in the doorway, already throwing spells at the group in the middle of the room.

Harry felt himself get grabbed roughly by the collar of his robes and shoved below the table. Within moments he was joined by a pale and startled Hermione, who had apparently just been forced down by Professor McGonagall. Harry peered out from under the table in time to see Lupin whip out his wand and step away; it had been he who had pushed Harry to safety.

"_STUPEFY!_" Professor McGonagall had begun to fight. A black-robed Death Eater collapsed immediately, hit by the stunning spell, but another soon took their comrade's place.

"_EXPELLIARMUS!_" Harry jumped; the spell had been called out from right behind him; he turned and saw someone in slim black robes - Thoreau.

"This is not good," Hermione whispered frantically, her eyes wide. She was shaking, but Harry noticed her wand was in her hand. He fumbled for his own and found he felt much better holding it.

"We can't just sit down here and do nothing," he muttered as two Death Eaters fell to one of Dumbledore's attack. For every enemy that was beaten, another was revived, and the six Order members were being outnumbered.

"No, Harry, we should stay out of the way," Hermione insisted, but Harry ignored her and climbed out from under the table. Almost immediately, a jet of red sparks flew at his face, but before he could even lift his wand a familiar voice yelled "_PROTEGO!_" and a pale, shimmering shield rose around him, causing the attack to disperse. Harry let out the breath he had been holding and turned to face Lupin, who had thrown up the shield.

"Please don't make me do that again," the Marauder said, breathless with relief. Harry nodded, pleased that Lupin hadn't scolded him for wanting to fight.

"_PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!_" Hermione had risen to her feet, as well, and her spell struck a Death Eater in the chest; the robed figure halted in their tracks and toppled over like a board.

There was a scream somewhere to their left; Harry whipped his head around just as a Death Eater yelled "_AVADA KADAVRA!_" and hit Thoreau directly. The jet of green light struck her stomach, the impact lifting her off her feet and throwing her against the wall; she slid to the floor and crumpled into a motionless heap.

"P-PROFESSOR!" Hermione screamed, eyes wide with shock. There was a moment when spells stopped flying altogether; everyone was staring, either surprised or horror-struck, at Thoreau's body. A single Death Eater took the opportunity to send a curse at Dumbledore, who merely lifted a shield and was left unharmed, and it was the cue for the battle to continue.

"_EXPELLIARMUS!_" Harry ducked under the spell sent his way and aimed his wand at the offending Death Eater.

"_REDUCTO!_" he cried. The Death Eater ducked, as well, and a balloon that had been behind him exploded loudly as it was hit with the curse.

Harry took the momentary reprieve to control his thoughts; he shook his head slightly and glanced over toward Thoreau's body, and gasped.

Throeau was slowly rising to her feet, brushing her robes off as though nothing had happened. Finally she lifted her face to the ceiling, shaking her dark curls out, and Harry caught sight of her eyes. Mere moments before they had been a healthy violet, but now they were as black as the night sky above.

The five remaining Death Eaters (the other five were currently stunned or otherwise knocked out) had noticed her revival and frozen in place. Harry knew if he could see their eyes they would be wide as saucers. He glanced over at Hermione to see her reaction and was surprised to see her smiling.

"Of course," she whispered, edging closer to Harry so he could hear her. "She's a vampire. A curse can't kill her!"

"Albus." Thoreau's calm, crisp voice sliced through the tense atmosphere like a knife; the Headmaster turned to her calmly. "That curse seems to have drained my blood supply rather quickly. May I refresh myself?" she asked, hungrily eyeing the tall, shaking Death Eater who had tried to kill her. Dumbledore inclined his head politely.

"Do as you wish," he said. Thoreau grinned maliciously and Harry felt a shudder run up his spine, just as it had when he had run into Thoreau two weeks ago; this was the first time he saw her gleaming, inhuman fangs. In the next instant she was upon the Death Eater, who only had time for a single step back and a choked half-scream. Hermione took in a sharp breath and turned away, burying her face in Harry's shoulder and gripping his arm tightly, but Harry watched.

Thoreau had latched onto her victim, knocking the mask off to reveal a man's bearded face twisted into a mask of agony. He was still on his feet only by Thoreau's strength; she held him up with no problem, her face hidden by her black curls as she bit into his neck. Harry couldn't help but watch, transfixed, trying to imagine what it would feel like to have your blood drained...

Someone grabbed him from behind, a cool hand covering his mouth so he couldn't cry out. A muffled "mph" from Hermione revealed that she had been grabbed, too; Harry lifted his wand, but a voice spoke softly in his ear and made him stop.

"Calm down, it's just me," Lupin hissed. Hermione stopped struggling when she heard his voice, and the Marauder continued. "I'm going to get you out of here. Don't talk, don't hesitate, and whatever you do, _don't stop_." The hand covering Harry's mouth was removed, and he felt himself get carefully pulled backwards. The attention of the room was still fixed upon the feeding vampire and her victim, now deathly pale. The remaining Death Eaters seemed reluctant to save their comrade, and even the members of the Order looked a bit frightened.

Harry scanned the room as the three of them slowly retreated toward a side door, and noticed something:

Snape had vanished.

He opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione noticed and shook her head frantically; they were so close to the door now, it would be ridiculously stupid to ruin it now.

"_Alohamora_," whispered Lupin, and the door clicked open softly. He pushed Harry and Hermione unceremoniously through the threshold and made to close it behind them, but Harry caught the door before it shut.

"Snape's gone," he breathed at last. Lupin frowned and looked back into the Great Hall, where shouts could be heard; the battle was back on.

"So it would seem," the older wizard muttered darkly after a quick glance around the room. He turned back to them. "Don't worry about it. It's not your job to keep track of him. Just go; this passage leads down to the kitchens, then out onto the grounds. From there you can make a run for Hogsmeade. Go to the Leaky Cauldron, and tell Madam Rosmerta what's happening. She'll know what to do." Lupin turned away, prepared to go back to the fight, but Hermione caught his arm desperately.

"Y-you're not coming with us?" she whispered. Lupin shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm needed here."

"But what if _we_ need you?" Hermione asked; Harry didn't think he had ever heard her so frightened. Lupin hesitated, glancing back into the Great Hall, then sighed and entered the corridor, closing the door behind him. He locked it from the inside, whispered a sealing charm, and finally turned back to Harry and Hermione with a grim smile.

"All right, let's go."

-----

They made it to the grounds without mishap. The house-elves in the kitchen were hiding well; Harry didn't see a single one as they ran through, which was a first.

Once outside, Lupin instructed them not to light their wands.

"If there are any Death Eaters out here keeping watch," he said quietly, "we obviously don't want to call attention to ourselves."

The three of them had just walked past the lake when they heard it; a soft, growling laugh, coming from the Forbidden Forest. Lupin instinctively placed himself in front of Harry and Hermione so he was facing the dense foliage.

"Remus Lupin," the voice growled. "What a wonderful coincidence." Something prickled in the back of Harry's mind; he knew that voice...

Lupin stiffened and tightened the grip on his wand, but otherwise remained calm.

"Having a pleasant evening, Silas?" he called.

Harry's eyes widened. _No! Not him!_

A great, hulking figure stalked out of the woods, chuckling. It looked like a man, but was covered all over with thick, dark hair and had sharp claws and even sharper canines. Harry shuddered; the last time he had seen those fangs was when they were covered with Lupin's blood.

"Pleasant enough, but it just got much better. And you?" the feral asked. Lupin smirked.

"Mine just got worse."

"Ah. What a shame. I see you have two young ones with you," Silas said conversationally, craning his thick neck to see behind Lupin. The Marauder positioned himself more in front of Harry and Hermione, glaring protectively. Hermione gripped Harry's arm again, and he could feel her shaking. "I love the taste of the young ones. Will you let me have them?" the feral asked mischeviously.

"No, I'm sorry, but these two 'young ones' are off limits," Lupin said, his voice still just as calm as if he had been teaching a class.

"Then can I have you?"

"I'm afraid not," Lupin answered coolly. Silas grinned, baring rows of sharp teeth, and lifted a long, thick wand, pointing it directly at Lupin's heart. The Marauder tensed, preparing for an attack. "Are you going to kill me?" he asked quietly.

"No, that is not what the Dark Lord wants. He wants you alive, Lupin, for whatever reason. He said, however, that I can bring you to him in whatever way I prefer, and I must say that I would prefer to fight with you, but not as a human." Lupin's eyes widened, and he took a step back, faltering for the first time.

"But how -"

"Just a little trick the great Lord Voldemort taught me. Now, hold still." With that, Silas shot a bolt of silver light out of the tip of his wand. Lupin dodged it, grabbing Harry and Hermione and diving behind a large group of bushes.

"Get out of here," he hissed as Silas laughed in the background. "Go to Hogsmeade, and the Leaky Cauldron -"

The same silver spell blasted a hole in the leaves above their heads. All three ducked, and Lupin grimaced.

"I'll have to fight him myself. Harry, make _sure _you tell Madam Rostmerta what is happening at Hogwarts," he said.

"But you -"

"I'll be able to handle him for a little while. Now go!"

With that, he pushed them away from him and ran out from the cover of the bushes, throwing a stunning spell in Silas' direction. It bounced off of the laughing feral and shot into the sky.

"You fool! You cannot hurt me with spells!" Silas yelled, apparently enjoying himself greatly. Lupin glared and paused, about to throw another curse.

"Harry, we can't just leave him," Hermione whispered; she and Harry were still hiding in the bushes, crouched rather uncomfortably.

"We're not going to. He's coming with us to Hogsmeade," Harry said defiantly. Hermione gulped and

nodded, and the two of them knelt and peeked through the bushes to watch the fight.

"If you don't cooperate, I'll be forced to kill those little ones you have with you. Obey me, and I shall leave them unharmed. Resist, and they die," Silas said, still pointing the thick wand at Lupin's heart. Lupin appeared to be thinking hard about this, and then - to Harry's horror - he pocketed his wand and held his hands out at his sides.

"Fine. Do what you will," he called.

"_NOO!_" Harry cried, leaping to his feet, but it was too late. Silas roared with triumph and shot a silver bolt of light straight at Lupin. It struck him directly in the chest, and he was lifted off his feet, hovering for a second as the charge illuminated his body. Then the spell completed itself and he fell, landing on his back, spread-eagle on the grass. Harry ran, ignoring Hermione's screams for him to stop, and fell to his knees beside the body.

Lupin's hazel eyes were wide and lifeless, and he wasn't breathing.

Harry choked, disbelieving; his heart was pounding somewhere in the region of his adam's apple, and his stomach had clenched horribly with a tight feeling of despair. He lifted his wand and pointed it at Lupin's chest.

"_Ennervate!_" he shouted. Nothing happened. "_Ennervate! Ennervate, _damnit, _ENNERVATE!_"

Nothing.

_Oh God, please let him not be dead. Don't let him be dead. He can't be dead_, Harry thought desperately.

"H-Harry, I think he's gone," said a quiet voice; Hermione was standing above him, looking down at Lupin's body with tear-filled brown eyes.

"How touching," Silas growled, still grinning maniacally. "Are you sad because you think he's dead?" Harry said nothing. His hand clenched into a fist, shaking uncontrollably.

"We _think_ he's dead?" he asked with deadly calm.

"Just wait," the feral said. Harry was about to rise to his feet and curse the living daylights out of the bastard when suddenly -

_B-bmp._

Surprised, Harry looked down at Lupin. He hadn't moved at all, but Harry was sure he had just heard -

_B-bmp._

There it was again! It sounded like a heartbeat!

_B-bmp._

"You two might want to move back," Silas called, barely able to contain his glee. Harry, although he didn't know why, obeyed and crawled away from Lupin. Hermione crouched beside him, her tear-filled eyes locked on their ex-professor.

_B-bmp._

Lupin's body began to emanate a slight silver glow.

_B-bmp_.

A throb of power and an explosion of silver light around Lupin made Harry's eyes widen as he realized what was happening.

"Holy sh - "

**_Author's Note: _**Oops - another cliffy. And watch your tongue, Harry!

Comments! Thankies!


	12. Battles

**_Author's Note: _**First of all, I want to apologize for my (incredibly stupid) mistake in the previous chapter. I _do_ know that the Leaky Cauldron is not in Hogsmeade; I meant to put the Three Broomsticks. -head desk- I'm very sorry, I really don't know where my brain was! (Also, a thanks to skygodess27, who pointed it out.)

Now, onward, to some violence and gore! Enjoy and comment!

**_Disclaimer: _**Me no owny Harry Potty. (Ha - I'm so hyper right now...)

**12. Battles**

Harry was interrupted by a low, eerie howl. Hermione gasped loudly at his side, her hands flying to her mouth in horror.

"It... it _can't_ be! That spell is forbidden!" she whispered. Harry didn't look at her; he couldn't tear his eyes from the glowing silver cloud surrounding Lupin.

"So he... he _is_... er... transforming?" he stammered. Hermione didn't reply; she was staring, as well, shaking quite terribly now.

The silver smoke finally cleared, revealing what Harry had hoped wasn't true: standing where Remus Lupin's body had been mere moments before was a handsome, if somewhat thin, tawny wolf. Its coat was streaked with gray, just like Lupin's hair, and its eyes were the same hazel color, but it was snarling and glaring so fiercely at the feral across from it that Harry had trouble believing it was actually his usually good-natured friend.

Silas, however, was beside himself with glee. He carelessly thrust his wand into the pocket of his robes and howled, an inhuman sound that made Harry cringe in fear. He shut his eyes and clapped his hands over his ears, and by the time he looked again, the feral had transformed himself into a large black wolf. The creature's eyes glowed red with rage and bloodlust, and Harry hadn't blinked once before it let out a loud bark and launched itself through the air toward Lupin, claws extended.

"This can't be happening," Hermione said breathlessly.

But it was; the two werewolves were now engaged in a fierce battle, tearing at each other savagely with sharp claws and even sharper fangs. The fight was a whirlwind of flying blood and fur, their bodies only blurs of black and gray-streaked brown. The low growls of the wolves were intermittently permeated by yelps of pain, but everything else on the grounds was silent.

Harry finally wrenched his eyes away from the battle and rose to his feet, grabbing Hermione up with him. She didn't seem to want to move on her own, so he had to practically drag her back to the bushes they had been hiding behind before. There, he grabbed her shoulders and shook her until she focused on him, seemingly too shocked and terrified to think clearly.

"Hermione, I need you to go to Hogsmeade and tell Madam Rosmerta what's happening," he ordered, keeping a firm grip on her. Hermione shook her head slowly.

"But... you..."

"_No_, Hermione. I'm staying here with Lupin. If something happens, and Silas manages to..." He trailed off, unable to complete that terrible thought, and cleared it from his mind with a decisive shake of his head. "No. If something happens, I should be here. You need to go. We're counting on you, Hermione." He shook her again to set these words in, and she finally seemed to come to her senses.

"Oh, Harry!" she cried, flinging her arms around his neck. Harry patted her back awkwardly, uncomfortable as he felt the shoulder of his robes getting wet from her tears.

"It'll be all right, Hermione. Just run to Hogsmeade, and I mean _run_, okay?" he said, trying rather unsuccessfully to be comforting. Hermione sniffed and let him go, nodding.

"Yeah, I will." She hesitated, then placed a kiss on his cheek. "Make sure both you and Lupin are here when I get back," she said, then sprinted from the bushes and disappeared into the darkness beyond the lake.

Harry blinked, slightly stunned by her sudden departure.

"She won't get far," a female voice drawled from behind him. Harry spun, wand out, to find himself face to face with a masked Death Eater. It didn't matter if he couldn't see her face, though; he would know that loathed voice anywhere. He opened his mouth to say her name, hoping to sound just as calm and cool as Lupin had when confronting Silas, but his voice caught in his throat and all that came out was a sort of croak. The Death Eater laughed and reached up a pale hand languidly, removing her mask and tossing it away gracefully to reveal an even paler face with dark, heavy-lidded eyes.

"Eloquent tonight, aren't we, Potter?" Bellatrix Lestrange taunted, twirling her long wand between her fingers casually. Harry glared at her in what he hoped was an intimidating way, but the Death Eater only laughed again. "The little boy is trying to ogle me into submission! What a joke!"

"I'm not a little boy," Harry retorted, finally finding his voice. "I'm sixteen, and old enough to hold my own against your mate Voldemort. Do you really think someone like _you _could scare me?"

"How dare you say the Dark Lord's name!" Bellatrix snarled. "Such insolence will not be tolerated!" She lifted her wand, prepared to curse Harry, when suddenly a loud yip sounded from where the werewolves were still fighting. Bellatrix's head snapped up, and Harry risked a glance over, as well. Fear gripped him, constricting his heart, as he realized that it was Lupin who had yelped. The tawny wolf was limping slowly away, holding his right forepaw aloft and licking the deep wound that Silas had inflicted while the larger black wolf paced, also (Harry was satisfied to note) bleeding from a number of deep scratches and bites.

"You would do well to ignore that battle, Potter. There is no doubt in my mind that Silas will defeat your friend Lupin. Why don't we resume _our_ little duel, hm?" Bellatrix asked, grinning malevolently. Harry set himself grimly into a dueling position, prepared for the onslaught of Unforgivable Curses.

Sure enough, the first spell Bellatrix called out was the Cruciatus Curse. Harry jumped out of the way as the ground where he had been standing exploded with the force of the spell.

"Run, little Potter! You will get nowhere, except maybe closer to a pair of blood-thirsty beasts!" Bellatrix called after him. Harry turned swiftly, pointing his wand at the Death Eater's chest.

"_IMPEDIMENTA!_" he cried. Bellatrix raised her wand and the spell flew off her shield harmlessly.

"_CRUCIO!_" she retaliated, and Harry didn't have enough time to lift a shield before the curse hit him.

The agony was incredible; it felt as though he was being burned from the inside out, his bones were cracking and being pulled apart at the joints, his muscles being ripped from his limbs, his skin was melting, his heart was going to explode, and his head, oh, his scar, his scar was on fire, his head was splitting, he was going to die, if only he could die...

Then it stopped, and Harry was left panting on the ground, his wand lying uselessly beside him. Bellatrix stood above him, laughing maniacally.

"Did you enjoy that, Potter? Do you want more?" she asked. Harry tried to answer but he was too weak; he was shaking uncontrollably, and he didn't even think he could have managed to lift a finger. Bellatrix raised her wand again but something fast and furry streaked towards her, leaping over Harry's motionless body and latching onto her with such force that it knocked her off her feet. Bellatrix shrieked as she keeled over, and Harry painfully raised himself into a sitting position to watch with wide eyes as wolf-Lupin tore at the Death Eater's flesh, his fangs shredding her black robes and ripping into her pale skin.

The werewolf had been attacking her for less than a minute before he was knocked aside by a bright red stunning spell, which sent him flying through the air with a yelp; he landed hard on the ground and didn't rise.

Bellatrix's screams had stopped the moment the wolf was off of her, and she now lay inanimate, bleeding profusely onto the dark grass. Harry scrambled back away from her; he only looked at her once, for fear that his stomach would protest in his weak state. Lupin had ripped so deeply into her that the white of bone could be seen in some of the gauges covering her chest and face. Her heavily lidded eyes were sightless with agony, but she still breathed shallowly, her blood-filled lungs straining. Harry was about to try standing when a commanding voice made him halt.

"Harry, stay where you are!"

Albus Dumbledore strode across the grounds, robes billowing impressively outward. He looked so regal silhouetted against the glowing yellow windows of Hogwarts that it took Harry a moment to realize he wasn't alone: Professor McGonagall, Thoreau, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mad-Eye Moody, and Nymphadora Tonks followed him out onto the lawn. The last hurried over to the insensible wolf after a nod from Dumbledore, kneeling beside him and stroking his gray-streaked fur gently, but the other four remained respectfully behind the Headmaster.

"Professor!" Harry exclaimed, relieved beyond measure to see him. Dumbledore motioned to Kingsley, and the tall black Auror walked over to Harry. He held out a large hand, which Harry grasped, and pulled the sixteen year-old to his feet with little trouble. Harry wavered, but Kingsley did not let him fall. As Harry was surveying the group of Order members, he noticed that Dumbledore was the only one with his wand at the ready; realization hit him like a hammer.

"Sir, _you_ stunned -?"

"I did what I had to, Harry," Dumbledore interrupted. He turned toward his student, looking suddenly tired. "I beg you not to hold it against me. I'm sure Remus will thank me, when he awakens."

"Albus, you should see this!" Tonks called, her voice wavering, from her position beside the wolf-Lupin. She wasn't looking at her friend, though; she was staring wide-eyed at a dark, hulking form lying inert in the grass nearby. Dumbledore followed her gaze, as did Harry; it was obviously Silas, and it was even more obvious that he was dead. His bloody throat was exposed, and it looked like his neck had been broken.

"Merlin," Harry heard Kingsley swear above him, and Harry had to agree. He hadn't thought Lupin could actually... _kill_... Silas. The thought that his kind-natured friend was actually capable of murder like that made him shudder. Kingsley must have felt him, because the Auror called out.

"Dumbledore, Potter needs to get some rest. He's dead on his feet," he said. Dumbledore nodded.

"Minerva, Vedette, go with Harry. Kingsley, Alastor, and I can handle Bellatrix and Silas, and Nymphadora will watch over Remus," he said. Before Harry could protest, Kingsley handed him over to a tight-lipped Professor McGonagall.

"Come, Potter. We'll take you to the hospital wing, and Madam Pomfrey can give you some dreamless sleep potion to help you rest," she said sternly, but Harry knew she was only worried about him. He suffered one glance back toward where Tonks was still watching over Lupin and was surprised to see that someone (likely Dumbledore) had managed to transform the wolf back into a human. Harry caught a brief glimpse of the Marauder's drawn face and felt a strong rush of emotion; Lupin had almost sacrificed his life for Harry and Hermione in facing Silas, and then had saved Harry from Bellatrix...

"Professor, will Lupin be all right?" Harry asked as they headed up the stairs toward the hospital wing, surprised at his raspy voice. Professor McGonagall did not answer right away, so Thoreau quickly spoke up.

"He should be fine, but we aren't entirely sure of the extent of that transformation spell Silas used. It's forbidden, but that's no surprise, seeing as Voldemort uses it," Thoreau said. Harry vaguely recalled Hermione saying something about 'forbidden' when the curse had first taken its hold on Lupin, and that made him remember.

"Hermione!" he exclaimed suddenly, making Professor McGonagall and Thoreau jump. "Is she okay? Did she make it to Hogsmeade?"

"Yes, she did," Professor McGonagall said proudly. "In fact, it is because of her that we managed to contact Kingsley, Moody, and Tonks. Their appearance turned the tables on the fight, and we were able to overcome them. Only Mr. Filch and Hagrid really got hurt - excluding you and Remus, of course - but they should be fine by tomorrow morning." Harry felt as though a great weight had been removed from his shoulders, and he suddenly realized just how tired he really was.

Luckily, the three of them had just reached the hospital wing. Thoreau held the door open as Professor McGonagall led Harry inside.

"Harry!"

Something rammed into him, and his vision was suddenly hindered by bushy brown hair.

"Harry, I was so worried! I ran as fast as I could! Is Lupin okay? Did the Aurors get here in time? What happened to that Silas? Did anyone -"

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, causing Hermione to stop abruptly. She blushed and let go of Harry, stepping back and looking down. Professor McGonagall smiled at the both of them.

"I think the interrogations can wait until tomorrow morning. You two should get some sleep." She gestured toward two turned-down beds right next to eachother. "Madam Pomfrey has some dreamless sleep potion if you need it. We will talk in the morning, Potter," she added when he gave her a questioning look. "Good night." With that, she left the room. Thoreau remained, looking rather sheepish.

"Look, I just wanted to apologize if I frightened you earlier. I don't usually -" she started, but Harry shook his head furiously.

"Don't. It was fine. I know you can control yourself," he said.

"Actually, it was kind of... interesting to watch," Hermione added shyly. Thoreau cocked an eyebrow, but appeared heartened.

"Maybe I should be worried about what you find 'interesting', Miss Granger," she joked. "Sleep tight. You don't have to worry about anything for the rest of the night, I promise. I'll be right outside."

Harry could barely remember climbing into the warm sheets of the bed prepared for him. He did, however, recall Thoreau peeking back in the door once he had removed his glasses and settled in.

"Oh," she said, "and Happy New Years."

**_Author's Note: _**Wow, I _really_ need to start writing... (Just so you guys know, I'm all caught up on my pre-written chapters, so they might come a _tad_ bit slower now. But don't fret, I will post them! And the more comments I get, the more I _want_ to write, so the faster they'll come!

Thanks for reading! Now finish up by giving my some nice feedback!


	13. Alchemist

**_Author's Note: _**Goodness, it's been a while! I'm SOOO sorry for taking this long, but I've been really busy! I won't waste any more of your time with this silly apology, so just go and read and (hopefully) enjoy yourself.

**_Disclaimer:_** I don't own "Harry Potter," but I do own my OCs...

**13. Alchemist**

Harry hadn't managed to take any dreamless sleep potion, so his sleep - while restful - was riddled with strange dreams.

First, he was surrounded by a horde of vampire Snapes, all of whom were waiting until he told them it was all right to feed on him. Then something in the darkness beyond them barked loudly, and all of the Snapes bolted, leaving Harry alone.

The next thing he knew, he was falling through air so thick it almost seemed like water. He looked over and saw Bellatrix Lestrange falling beside him, asking him if he liked her dress. He was about to tell her no, because he hated her, but then he actually looked at the dress and realized it was covered in bloodstains. He mentioned this to her, and she looked down in surprise, then looked back up at him sheepishly and said, "Well, that bloody sucks," before huge, fanged jaws engulfed her.

Then Harry was in the Three Broomsticks with Rita Skeeter, who suddenly turned into a beetle and flew at his face, landing on his forehead. Her legs made him itch; he tried to brush her off, but she had put a permanent sticking charm on herself and he couldn't get rid of her. People were pointing and laughing at him because of the beetle on his forehead, but all he cared about was that persistant itch. He lifted a hand to scratch, but stopped as he realized that his hand was pale and long-fingered.

Suddenly, the people laughing and pointing turned into Death Eaters, bowing low before him. The itch on his forehead turned into a burning pain. He was furious, filled with such rage that it threatened to tear his head apart; something he had wanted hadn't happened. The plan had gone awry. The long-fingered hand that was his, yet not his, lifted a wand and pointed it at one of the grovelling Death Eaters - a handsome but rather pale man Harry did not recognize - and a voice that was his, yet not his, said quietly, maliciously, "_Crucio._"

Then Harry's scar seared with a white-hot pain, and he finally awoke.

-----

The second he opened his eyes, the pain receded into a dull ache. At first he thought he had gone blind, but then remembered that he had removed his glasses before going to sleep. He sat up slowly, reaching over and grabbing his glasses from the table beside his bed.

"Oh, you're awake." Harry turned and saw Hermione sitting comfortably on her already-made bed, surrounded by a large pile of books and articles. She smiled at him. "How'd you sleep?"

"Not bad," Harry said, rubbing his scar absently; it was still bothering him, and he knew why. Hermione's smile faded at once.

"Does it hurt?" she asked, setting aside the yellowed newspaper clipping she had been perusing.

"He's really angry about what happened last night," Harry said quietly. Hermione nodded knowingly.

"I can imagine. He lost about ten Death Eaters, not to mention that dead werewolf," she said. Harry raised his eyebrows; the last he could remember, Hermione hadn't known that Silas had been killed.

"How do you know about that?" he asked.

"Oh, Tonks filled me in on everything that happened earlier this morning. It's already one o'clock in the afternoon, you know; you've been asleep for a while." Harry frowned.

"What happened to Bellatrix?" he asked.

"She's being held in the dungeons. Madam Pomfrey managed to heal her as best she could, but -"

"Wait, Pomfrey _healed_ her? Why?" This time it was Hermione's turn to frown.

"Isn't it obvious?" she asked. Harry didn't reply, and Hermione sighed exasperatedly, giving him the feeling he had just said or done something incredibly stupid. "Well, she was attacked by Lupin, wasn't she? He's a werewolf, and it's strictly forbidden for him to attack wizards. He's facing major charges from the Ministry, Harry."

"But she's a Death Eater! And she was going to kill me! Isn't that an excuse?" Harry demanded.

"It's not that simple," Hermione answered patiently. "If he had bitten her - which he didn't, thank Merlin - or killed her, he could be eligible for execution."

"_Execution!?_" Harry burst, horrified. Hermione looked down, her hands clenched into fists in her lap.

"Yes, Harry, execution. The Ministry would put him down, like... like some kind of _animal_. It's terrible. I've been reading up on werewolf cases," she motioned to the mounds of books and articles around her, "and they _have_ done it before. Sometimes they even sentence them to the Dementor's Kiss."

"But it won't come to that," Harry said hurriedly, feeling slightly panicky at the idea of a soulless Lupin. "I mean, Dumbledore will work things out, right?" Hermione shrugged.

"Hopefully." She suddenly let out a cheerless laugh. "Oh, and guess who's trying to get her chubby little hands on Lupin's case?" A bubbling, loathing feeling erupted in Harry's chest, and his eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Umbridge." Hermione nodded.

"That's right. She got her job back at the Ministry." Harry barely heard her as she went into a full explanation of how Umbridge had managed to return to the Ministy; he was too busy seething at the mere thought of their ex-professor.

Dolores Umbridge was quite possibly one of the three most-hated people in Harry's laugh, the others being Voldemort and Snape. He had decided long ago that he would rather put up with a livid Uncle Vernon than her any day. There were many reasons for his deep-seeded hatred of her, but the first one to come to mind in this instance was the set of ridiculous laws against "half-breeds" that she had set up a few years back. Those laws were the reason that it was nearly impossible for Lupin to find work, and now Umbridge had the _audacity_ to try and take his court case! Harry knew all too well that she would try as hard as she could to make sure that Lupin was either put behind bars or - ideally for her - executed.

"Harry, are you listening?" Harry blinked and brought himself out of his thoughts; Hermione was watching him carefully.

"Sorry, Hermione. What were you saying?" he asked. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I was _saying_ that Lupin's chances of being executed are slim to none in this case, no matter how much Umbridge tries to interfere. We have so much evidence that it was an act of self-defense that there's no possible way any clear-thinking jury could accuse him otherwise," Hermione said, smiling. Harry smiled, too.

"That's great." He glanced around the hospital wing, but all other beds were unoccupied. "By the way... where _is_ Lupin?"

"Probably up in Dumbledore's office or something. His wounds weren't that bad, considering what he went through last night. He's still a bit sore, but Madam Pomfrey let him go earlier this morning," Hermione said, turning her attention back to the article she had previously set aside. "Why do you ask?"

"Er - no reason," Harry said quickly; he actually wanted to thank Lupin for saving him last night, but felt a bit uncomfortable telling Hermione that. She didn't appear to notice, though, preoccupied as she was with the article in her lap. He changed the subject, even so. "What about Hagrid and Filch?"

"Both released this morning," Hermione muttered. Harry nodded wordlessly. He swung his legs out of bed and grabbed his shoes.

"I'm going to go find Professor McGonagall," he said. Hermione murmured something that sounded like "mmkay," so Harry left the hospital wing after tying the laces of his trainers.

Hogwarts castle was still quite empty, as it would be until the next day when the rest of the student body would return from their long Christmas vacation. Harry wandered aimlessly through the deserted corridors, even though he had told Hermione he was looking for Professor McGonagall.

He soon found himself outside the all-too familiar Defense Against the Dark Arts office. Every time a new teacher had come to the school, they had brought their own influence to the room, and Harry realized he had yet to see what Thoreau had done to it. Out of curiosity, he knocked, and a soft voice bid him enter.

"Harry! How are you feeling?" Thoreau rose from her seat behind a large mahogany desk, smiling at her student.

"I'm fine," Harry replied, surveying the office; the walls were covered with exquisite paintings of mythical beasts and famous wizards from ages past, and a tall bookshelf that Harry hadn't seen in the office since Lupin's year as professor was filled to the brim with thick volumes covering everything from basic defense to the most complicated jinxes and curses. Harry smiled; it was how the office should be.

"How may I help you?" Thoreau asked, bringing Harry's attention back to her; her violet eyes twinkled with almost Dumbledore-like merriment. Harry opened his mouth, about to say that there was nothing, when suddenly a book on the lowest shelf of the bookcase caught his eye; he reached down and grabbed it out, brushing the dust from the cover.

"I was actually hoping you might be able to tell me something about alchemy," he said, setting the book - entitled _The Beginner's Guide to Alchemy_ - down on the table before Thoreau. The vampire blinked, obviously baffled.

"Well," she began slowly, motioning for Harry to take a seat as she herself sank into the high-backed chair she had been resting in before. "I won't claim to be an expert, but I do know that alchemy is an obsolete Muggle science, aimed at changing metals into gold and the like. Wizards in the past, posing as scientists, used to make livings fooling Muggles into thinking it actually was a science, and not just basic magic and - in some cases - the work of Sorceror's Stones."

"So it's not an actual kind of magic?" Harry asked, frowning. Thoreau shook her head.

"No, I'm afraid not; the whole thing is a fluke."

"Then why do you have a book on it in your office?" Harry asked, his voice slightly accusatory. _Is Thoreau the Alchemist? Did _she_ send that warning note? If so, how did she know everything that was going to happen?_ he wondered, eyeing her carefully. Thoreau just smiled sheepishly.

"It was a gift from a good friend of mine, who - I'm rather ashamed to say - was one of those wizards who enjoyed posing as a miraculous scientist," she said. A crease formed in her brow, and Harry squirmed slightly under her violet gaze. "Why so curious all of a sudden?"

For a second, Harry contemplated lying, but soon thought better of it. What if Thoreau was a talented Legilimens?

"Did Dumbledore happen to mention the warning note I received yesterday?" he asked quietly. Thoreau nodded.

"Yes, I seem to remember him mentioning it at one point," she said.

"Well, it was signed by someone who called themselves 'the Alchemist.' Do you have any idea who that might be?" Harry asked. Thoreau said nothing for a few moments, apparently pondering this, but then slowly shook her head.

"No, I'm afraid not. Sorry, Harry," she said, sounding quiet sincere. Harry nodded and rose from his seat, smiling at his professor.

"It's all right. Thanks, I'll see you later," he said, then left the office without another word.

"See you," Thoreau muttered at the closed door. She sighed and fingered the book before her thoughtfully. What she had told Harry was somewhat a lie; Dumbledore had done much more than mention the warning note the previous day. All Hogwarts teachers (and available Order members, for that matter) had been called to the Headmaster's chambers and there had been a full-blown discussion on what the letter could mean and who it could be from, and Thoreau thought she was probably the only person who knew. Even so, she had remained silent.

With a sigh, Thoreau pulled her black curls up into a messy bun at the back of her head and walked over to the fireplace. She took a pinch of Floo powder and tossed it into the flames, lazily calling out an address before stepping into the fire.

Upon reaching her destination, she called out into the dark room.

"Adrien, I know you're here!"

"Vedette. What a pleasant surprise." Thoreau turned and saw the handsome male vampire sauntering toward her, the tip of his wand lit.

"Cut the act. You should know why I've come," she snapped at him. Adrien waved his wand and the room lit immediately, the candles suddenly bursting into flame and illuminating a medieval-looking chamber.

"Terribly sorry, but I'm afraid I have no idea," he drawled, gracefully settling himself into a chintz armchair. He smiled at her and gestured toward a nearby table, where a bottle and some crystal glasses sat. "Scotch?" Thoreau made a face at him and sat on the sofa across from him.

"I should think not. What are you up to, sending warning letters to Harry Potter? Did your _master_," she practically spat the word, "tell you to?" Adrien's amiable expression darkened immediately at the mention of Voldemort.

"Actually, no. The attack was supposed to be a complete surprise. Are you telling me your side wasn't grateful for the warning?" he asked sardonically.

"No, it helped," Thoreau admitted grudgingly. "But why tell them to beware me, and call me a 'blood-fiend'?" Adrien sighed.

"I had to place the blame somewhere. And I figured it would do to make it seem as though a vampire hater, not a vampire himself, sent the letter. Also, any Death Eater would want to frame you, wouldn't they? It would just be so easy to call you - or me, for that matter - the bad guy." He paused. "Does that satisfy you?"

"Not really," Thoreau said, "but it will do." She leaned back against the soft back of the sofa, and after a few moments of silence, she glanced up at her companion; he was staring at the ceiling broodingly. "Adrien," she said softly. He glanced at her. "Why?" A ghost of a smile fluttered over his lips.

"I don't know. I guess it wasn't the brightest thing to do, especially since the Dark Lord found out and didn't exactly approve," he said bitterly, cringing slightly. Thoreau sighed sympathetically.

"Did he punish you?" she asked quietly. Adrien nodded.

"Cruciatus Curse." Thoreau winced, and slowly rose to her feet, walking over to her friend and putting her arms around his shoulders. She kissed his cheek tenderly, and rested her head against his.

"I'm sorry. Thank you." Adrien turned his head and kissed her, then pulled back and smiled.

"You're welcome."

**_Author's Note: _**Aw... vampire love! It's so much easier to write Thoreau and Adrien, because I don't have to worry about them being out of character...

I know it was just a transitional chapter, not much action and such, but I hope it was somewhat worth the wait! I'll try to update quicker!

Oh, and comments are - as always - appreciated.


	14. Foreboding

_**Author's Note: **_Finally, an update! I won't keep you long here, not much to say, really... sorry for taking so long, my lovely readers! I'm back and actually writing so please keep reading! Thanks!

EDIT: I changed the last part of this chapter. To those of you who noticed, I think it's better now. It makes more sense, at least. That is all! :D

_**Disclaimer: **_I still don't own "Harry Potter." I only own my OCs, whom you should know by now.

**14. Foreboding**

"Welcome back!" Albus Dumbledore stood before his students, arms spread wide in hospitality. He beamed at the sea of curious faces before him, all wondering why the entire school had been called to this impromptu feast. "I hope," the Headmaster continued, "that your holidays were safe and enjoyable, and that you are all rested and ready for more learning!" A few groans broke the silence in the Great Hall and Dumbledore chuckled. "Now, without any further ado, the reason for this magnificent feast."

Harry sighed and mentally braced himself for the stares he was bound to receive once Dumbledore finished announcing what had happened on New Year's Eve; he was almost positive that was what the purpose of the feast was...

"Firstly, all Potions lessons are hereby postponed, as our dear Professor Snape is currently unable to teach and I have been thus far unable to convince the replacement to take the job."

Harry blinked as excited murmurings broke out among the four House tables.

"'Unable to teach'? Could that mean he still hasn't come back?" Ron hissed across the table, having been informed of everything upon his return from Romania.

"That's strange... I was sure he would have returned by now," Hermione muttered, her brow furrowed. Harry glanced up at the Head Table and noticed that Professor McGonagall's eyebrows had formed a stern 'v' above her eyes, but only one other professor seemed affected by the news of Snape's disappearance: Thoreau looked positively mutinous, slouched somewhat in her seat with her arms crossed and a bitter expression upon her pretty face. Before Harry could point this out to his friends, Dumbledore lifted a hand put a cease to the noise; a hush fell immediately.

"Secondly," he continued calmly, as though he had never been interrupted, "you may notice that security around and inside the castle has been increased. Aurors will be patrolling the halls after hours, and I can assure you that they will not tolerate any sneaking around or other such nonsense. In fact, you may recognize a few of the guards... perhaps some of you older students recall the names Alastor Moody and Remus Lupin?" Dumbledore asked mischeviously, quirking a snow-white eyebrow. At the mention of Moody, Harry glanced over at the Slytherin table just in time to see Malfoy go even paler than usual. He snorted and nudged Ron, who followed his gaze and broke into a wide grin.

"Lupin? As in Professor Lupin from three years ago?" called a female voice from the Ravenclaw table. Harry couldn't help but smile slightly at the girl; her voice sounded excited and almost hopeful.

"The very same," Dumbledore beamed, clearly pleased. "And for those of you who might be at all worried about his presence here, I can assure you that there will be no problems, and there is no need to complain to myself or to the Ministry. Remus is here as my friend and guest; he is merely assisting me by helping secure Hogwarts, so I will not send him away." His blue eyes flashed dangerously over his half-moon spectacles, as though daring someone to challenge him, but soon went back to twinkling merrily once he realized on one would.

"Very well. I believe I have kept you long enough. Now off to bed you go, and a happy return to Hogwarts!"

Harry found it difficult to talk to Ron and Hermione as they were pushed and shoved around in the wave of students leaving the Great Hall, but once free from the mob he immediately broke into a hushed conversation.

"Where would he go?" he asked hurriedly.

"Who?" Hermione asked, slightly bewildered.

"Snape!"

"Oh. Well, maybe he's on a mission for the Order or something," Hermione said logically. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Come off it, Hermione! Even Dumbledore doesn't seem to know where he is, and you can't say it isn't suspicious that he's trying to get a replacement Potions master," Harry insisted. Hermione still looked unsure, but Ron piped up instead.

"I think Snape just chickened out when those Death Eaters came and attacked and hasn't got the guts to show his face around here again," he said. Harry shrugged.

"Possible. I wouldn't put it past Snape to pull something like that. Maybe he's with Voldemort, though. What if he's planning something?" he mused. Hermione sighed exasperatedly.

"You two are ridiculous! You sound like a broken record, always accusing Snape, and when have you _ever_ been right?" she scolded. "Shouldn't you be worrying about more pressing matters, like, say, Lupin's trial?"

"Oh yeah!" Harry exclaimed, slapping his forehead. "That's only a few days away! How's it looking?"

"Pretty good. You're probably going to be called as a witness, you know, Harry. Do you know what you're going to say?" Hermione asked. Harry made a face as the three of them approached the portrait hole.

"I'm just going to tell the truth - that he was only protecting me from Lestrange, and that he didn't even bite her. Hell, if it weren't for him, I'd be dead and Lestrange wouldn't be in Ministry custody!" he said as they scrambled through the hole.

"Have you spoken to him lately?" Hermione asked softly, obviously rather reluctant to breech the subject. Harry's expression hardened; he hadn't gotten a chance to talk to Lupin since New Years, and was starting to get the distinct feeling that the Marauder was avoiding him.

"Not yet. I'm going to find him tomorrow, though," he said harshly. "I'm going to bed."

"Wait up, mate!" Ron called, but Harry just shook his head and trudged up the stairway leading to the dorms. He changed into his pajamas in haste and quickly climbed into bed, even though it was only just past nine o'clock. He set his glasses on the bedside table and huddled under his sheets, concentrating on falling asleep. A couple minutes later, Ron opened the door to the dorm.

"Harry?" he called softly. Harry didn't answer; he was facing away from the door, so Ron couldn't see his wide green eyes, and after a minute the red-head left the dorm room.

"Sorry, Ron," Harry muttered, but it was half-hearted; he just didn't feel like talking at the moment. He had been having a good night, but Hermione bringing up Lupin had just about ruined it. It had been _days_ since the attack, and the older wizard had been avoiding Harry like the plague.

To be honest, Harry simply missed Lupin; he had spent hours sitting in the hospital wing and then Lupin's makeshift apartment just talking to him about everything from Harry's parents and the Marauders' era at Hogwarts to Harry's growing feelings for Ginny Weasley, which he had yet to admit to anyone else. In a matter of weeks Lupin had become what Sirius had once been, and although his godfather could never be replaced, it was nice to have another strong father/brother-figure in his life.

But now Lupin was avoiding him, and Harry couldn't figure out why. Could it just be because of what had occurred on New Years, or was it something more? Harry suddenly found himself coming up with the strangest reasons as to why Lupin kepy evading him, and at some point found himself drifting off to sleep.

-----

He was powerful, completely unbeatable. He reached out and slashed at the cowering man before him, enjoying the scent of blood and the feel of his claws ripping through flesh like a knife through butter. Someone screamed, someone young, and he was suddenly excited. He spun to face a little girl who was staring at him with wide blue eyes filled with tears. It had been she who had screamed; deep down, he thought he should be feeling sympathy for this poor child, rather than the ravenous bloodlust that consumed his being. He was about to leap on her when suddenly his left fore-arm seered with pain, pulling him back. He glanced down and saw - with a pang of regret and more than a little frustration - a black tattoo on his hairy arm, depicting a skull with a snake slithering out of its mouth.

His master called him.

With a snarl of rage, he Apparated without another glance at the terrified little girl and appeared within moments before his master.

"You called?" he growled, his voice barely human. The man before him - Voldemort - nodded curtly, his lips pulled tight.

"I did. As you may have heard, Greyback, my New Years plans failed abysmally. Not only did I not manage to get Lupin back or kill any members of the Order of the Phoenix, but I lost ten valuable Death Eaters and one of your precious ferals," he sneered.

"Which of mine?" the other man demanded immediately.

"One called Silas."

The man lifted his face to the ceiling with an inhuman cry of fury.

"WHO KILLED HIM?" he roared; Voldemort didn't even flinch.

"Remus J. Lupin," he answered quietly.

"Then that whelp must die!" Voldemort's thin-lipped mouth turned up into a terrible smile.

"My thoughts exactly. Take care of it."

_-----_

Another scene was unfolding in a small town with dilapidated brick houses and narrow, cobbled streets. It was dark here, as well; the only light came from the dim and broken streetlamps lining the main roads. There was a dirty river nearby, and an abandoned mill upon the banks, from within which came the sound of two male voices arguing.

"- meaning of it? The Dark Lord is incredibly angry, and he damned well has a right to be!" The first voice belonged to one Severus Snape, and he was not pleased with his companion.

"What are you going to do, tell on me?" asked the other voice smoothly.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't!" Snape retorted.

"It would accomplish nothing. Voldemort won't kill me, he needs me. The worst he could do is torture me with the Cruciatus Curse for a while, and you know as well as I how much good that does. It can't kill me, and it won't make me go insane. In fact, it's annoying at best," the unfamiliar voice said, sounding completely relaxed.

"Adrien -" Snape began, hissing through his clenched teeth.

"This is dangerous for you, isn't it, Severus?" the vampire - Adrien - interrupted. "Meeting with Death Eaters you don't trust so close to your home."

"You are not a Death Eater. You are not Marked as one. Do not take me for a fool. I know what you are doing, and I happen to know your accomplice for what she really is, as well."

"And what might that be?" Adrien asked softly, cocking a brow. "A vampire?"

"A traitor," Snape spat. Adrien's dark eyes flashed dangerously, and Snape flinched backwards.

"You will not speak another word. You do not need to know the meaning of why I sent that warning, and you also do not need to mention this meeting to anyone, are we clear?" Surprisingly, Snape nodded mutely and did not argue. "Oh," the vampire continued, "and I would return to Hogwarts as soon as possible. You see, I'm rather hungry, and Merlin knows I don't like you..." He let the threat hang in the air, then flashed a brilliant smile before disappearing into the darkness without a sound.

_-----_

Somewhere in the distance, Fenrir Greyback howled at the waning moon, bringing shudders to every mortal who heard.

He was ready for blood.

It was almost time.

-----

_**Author's Note: **_Getting exciting now, eh? Reviews, please & thank you!


	15. NOTICE!

**_Author's Note: _**Happy Easter, everyone!

Just a quick notice: "Wolf Game" is taking a break, because the authoress is suffering from ultimate writer's block.

I promise I'll update sometime relatively soon so the story doesn't completely die, but I can't say when that will be.

Just thought I'd warn you! Sorry, guys!

Peace,

saxgirl42


End file.
